


My Heart's Blood

by Six_Lily_Petals



Series: A World without Magic [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Art, BDSM, Baby Dragon, Dorian x Inquisitor, Dragon sex, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fluff, Hawke x Cullen, Humiliation, Knifeplay, M/M, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Pegging, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Smut, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, You're just going to have to trust me on that one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 97,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7110814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Six_Lily_Petals/pseuds/Six_Lily_Petals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part II of 'A World without Magic'<br/>Part I is <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4685450/chapters/10695395">Light & Casual</a></p><p>Major Praxis has spent the better part of the past year working for the Inquisition and found a new home in the midst of the knowledge she would never return home.  Things have changed and instead of her finding a way back, her old unit found a way to get to her.</p><p>How will Praxis decide between her duty back home and the new life she has found with her true love?  Will Bull follow her back and be able to convince her to stay?  Can he successfully navigate the temptations of sin city itself, Las Vegas?</p><p>Also, smut because I can't help myself.<br/>04 - Rothstein x Pasclina x Orlesian<br/>05 - Dorian x Lavellan<br/>07 - Bull x OC x Lavellan<br/>09 - Bull x OC x Dragon (ish)<br/>12 - Alistair x Hawke x Cullen</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Off to a Bad Start

The next morning held a coiled silence.  Something had happened the night before that put everyone on edge.  Breakfast consisted of required conversation and sideways glances at Praxis.  Varric and Dorian were the only ones who even spoke to her and even then they were easily answered with a nod.  Bull wasn’t sure if she noticed, or cared. 

He did and didn’t like it.  He offered to have Praxis ride with him, knowing this bubble of tension was going to pop eventually and he wasn’t sure how it would play out.  If things turned out for the worst, he wanted to be in control of her safety. 

Thirty minutes into the journey and Skinner was the first to break the silence, “So, Praxis.  Your people.  Dorian claims they have food markets the size of Skyhold.  Is the boastful Shem full of shit?”

She laughed with an apologetic grin at Dorian who had long ago given up taking offense at anything Skinner said against humans.  “I’m not sure about the Skyhold analogy, but some of them can get pretty large.”

Rocky reined his mount closer, “Is there really that much variety?  Do they really ship things in from all over just to be in one market?”

Bull relaxed in his saddle as Praxis answered question after question.  Apparently the same had happened to Dorian the night before and it only further piqued the Chargers curiosity when he was only able to vaguely answer.  Today she was more open about her homeland than she used to be.  With the inevitability of meeting her kind face-to-face, perhaps even returning with them, there was no reason to hold back for fear of homesickness. 

The questions continued and lightened the mood in the group, which made traveling through the fluttering snow more pleasant.  The Inquisitor still kept to himself though.  Bull only half listened to Praxis’ stories, what did he care?  He’d never see her lands.  His attention was focused on Mahanon.  The man hadn’t participated in the banter at all and barely spoke to Dorian who tried to coax him into private conversation.  The man simply brushed the mage off and continued to keep to himself.  As Bull began to categorize the possible causes, they heard a distant and distinct _crack_ echo in the air. 

The group stilled.  Mahanon barely rose his voice, “A rift just ahead.  Eyes open for demons.”

Mission focus took over.  Quiet, razor sharp alertness replaced happy conversations, even the horses felt the change in mood and adjusted their gait.  The group moved forward in a tight formation, the ranged units – Dorian, Dalish, Varric, and Mahanon – in the rear, Bull up front with Krem, Rocky, and Grim.  Skinner disappeared to scout ahead. 

“Stay with Stitches.”  Bull stared at the healer as he spoke, his words meant more so for him.  Someone had to protect her.  Praxis slipped from his horse back onto her own and peeled away from the group with the Stitches. 

They heard Skinner before they saw her.  “Two pride demons, four rage, seven wraiths.  Corpses everywhere.”

The corpses typically weren’t a problem.  It was being so near Haven that had them all groaning.  There was no question where the bodies came from – the unfortunate who didn’t survive The Fall.  Dorian spit a curse in Tevene.  Mahanon spurred his horse forward, setting a quicker pace.  The sooner they were done with this, the better.

Bull gave Praxis a sidelong glance.  She had no idea what they were facing.  Pride demons were a bitch to bring down.  Two of them?  A fucking nightmare.  Adding in all the other little wraith fucks made for a really bad day. 

The closer they came to the rift, the more uncomfortable Praxis became.  She squirmed in her saddle and made pained faces.  With the rift open to the Fade, the magic she felt must have affected her.  She thumbed her dog tag, then clutched it tight.

“Kadan, you alright?”

She jiggled her head, her thoughts refocused on him.  “Fine.  Fine.”  She smiled at him.  “It just feels a little funny.  I’m fine.”

“You know, I hadn’t considered it before now.  You may be able to put those Templar abilities to use.”

“No, Dorian.  It’s not wise to introduce a new element into a fight without any practice.”  Mahanon smartly cut the mage off from his suggestion.  “Especially when we’re facing two pride demons.  Surprises are not a good thing right now.  That’s how people get hurt.”

“Well, not this time certainly, but it may be a consideration for later.”  Dorian easily dismissed the idea at Mahanon’s sound logic. 

“If there is a later.”  The acerbic response from the Inquisitor answered Bull’s earlier question.  He was bitter about the prospect of Praxis leaving.  The tone spoke to the personal betrayal he felt. 

Bull stored that information away to deal with later.  The cracks of the rift were starting to make his ears pop.  They were close.  Stitches hustled among them, passing out potions and lyrium.  Varric and Rocky exchanged bombs and grenades. 

“Chargers!  Horns up!”  Krem’s voice boomed.  Everyone split into formation, ready for the onslaught as the threat came at them.

The first wave was nothing but corpses.  Bull kept his focus on the chests, avoiding the possibility of looking them in the face and recognizing one.  Varric and Mahanon tried to lure some of the wraiths away from the rift, but the pride demons were too smart for that, always reeling them back in. 

No one wanted to fight them en masse but it seemed they weren’t given an option.  Bull yelled through gritted teeth, “Chargers!  Let’s shove these demons back in the gapping ass end of the Void!”

Forging into the fray, the seasoned warriors battled.  It was grueling and exhausting.  A few of the wraiths were taken out, but more continued to pour from the rift.  Little progress was being made.  Each time Mahanon tried to disrupt the rift, one of the pride demons would lash out at him with its electricity charged whip.  If there was to be any hope, they had to get one of the bastards down and out of the fight. 

Bull had already downed two stamina potions and he could feel that he and Krem were getting close to hacking down their one demon.  Suddenly, Krem was jerked from his field of vision, his body sent flying as the other demon cracked his whip.  It seemed that Bull wasn’t the only one who was aware of the demon’s failing health.  The Inquisitor leapt down from his position to get in close with a grenade, following through with a few shots of his arrows.  With the added focus on the failing demon, the second one came down on Mahanon.  His balled fist tried to crush the elf, but Dorian’s barrier held strong.  The demon continued, unrelenting.  The wraiths converged on Dorian.  If he was going to protect the Inquisitor, Bull’d have to give up his own support.

It didn’t matter.  Bull knew he could take it on alone, especially in its weakened state.  He signaled everyone over to help Dorian and Mahanon.  A few more swings and he had the damn thing finally falling to the ground.  He had the urge to cut its fucking head off, but knew now wasn’t the time.  He turned to assess the rest of the battlefield and his stomach sank.  Krem lay at the edge of the fighting with Stitches working fervently on his wounds.  The rage demons and wraiths had managed to separate the rest of the team into small groups, cornering them off from supporting each other and the pride demon was honing in on Mahanon.  The Inquisitor was too distracted with the circle of rage demons to notice the impending death that was closing in on him. 

Bull ran full speed.  His entire body angry and stiff.  He counted the paces between him and Mahanon – 40.  Paces between the demon and Mahanon – 30.  Although he knew he wouldn’t make it, he pushed anyway.  If this demon shit was going to kill their only hope for sealing the breech, then he was going to be the first to completely fuck it over. 

A flash of Krem’s shield surprised him as it pressed through the ring of demons.  Bull didn’t slow his stride.  What did shock him was the sound of Krem’s voice that came from behind him.  The words were indiscernible and from the corner of his eye, he saw the Tevinter rushing with a limp back into battle with only his sword and a borrowed shield from Stitches. 

The confusion was a fog that only lifted far too late for Bull to do anything.  Praxis had taken Krem’s shield.  It was _she_ that he saw rush to the Inquisitor’s aid, providing a buffer between the demon and Mahanon.  The monster struck down on the metal, splintering it into sharp slivers that sliced like razors into the idiot woman.  As Bull neared, he noticed that the blows landed lighter and lighter with each swing.  Something was pulling the creature away, sucking it back into the rift.  He glanced at the Inquisitor but he was preoccupied with finishing off the last of the rage demons.

It had to be her.  Fucking Dorian and his fucking ideas.  How she was doing it, Bull didn’t care.  He only knew that he needed to kill the demons around the Inquisitor so his freaky-ass magic hand could send the abomination back to where it came from. 

With the pride demon exerting all of its energy on staying out of the rift, the Chargers were able to easily cut down the remainder of the demons.  Krem bashed his shield into the pride demon, shoving it further towards the crackling opening.  It was the last beast left in the field and the rift was weakened enough that Mahanon easily sent it screeching back into the Void.  In the quiet that fell, everyone scanned their surroundings, checking that there wasn’t anything left behind

All except Bull.  He and Stitches raced to Praxis.  Kneeling beside her, Bull stamped down the urge to scoop her up in his arms.  “Tell me what to do.”

Stitches grumbled and tore at her leather armor.  Cut in several places from the shattered sheild, she was bleeding profusely.  Bull didn’t need to hear Stitches say it.  He knew she wasn’t going to make it.

“Chargers!  Pair up and spread out.  Find her people!”  Mahanon acted where Bull could not. 

Bull felt his world crumbling beneath him.  Never had he felt so attached, never had his life hinged on the wellbeing of another in such a way.  This couldn’t be happening.  She was too strong, too stubborn to let this happen.

Stitches grabbed Bull’s arm, shaking him back to reality, “Chief.  If they’re too far away, she’s not going to make it.”

“i-i-ce.”  Praxis barely got the word out, her eyes rolled over towards Varric.

The dwarf stood stunned for a second, then a thought flashed to life.  “Ice?  The pond, you mean the pond?”

Relief relaxed the features on Praxis’ face.  Bull turned on Varric, “What’s the plan?  You know what she’s talking about?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it.  Bring her.”  Varric led the way and upon reaching the edge of the frozen pond, he tossed a small bomb to break open the surface.  “You have to keep her in the cold water until her people show up.”

Stitches shoved Varric, “Are you fucking blighted?”

“I don’t see you offering anything!”  Varric snapped back.

“Chief, I can’t support this.  This is stupid!”  The man blew out a heavy sigh and hung his head briefly in defeat.  “However, I don’t have an alternative.  She’s dying Chief.  There’s no getting around it.  If we don’t find her people, if they don’t have an answer, you need to decide how she goes.”

“Thanks.  Dick.”  Bull held Praxis slung across his arms.  Stitches had gotten her to stop bleeding, but she was fading fast.  “You want in the water?  You sure?”

She wheezed a response and lacking any negative connotation, he took it as a yes.  Lowering her into the icy water, she barely made a sound, further proof that her body was shutting down. 

“Bull, you gotta…hold her down.”  Varric was solemn as he spoke, reluctant to even say the words.

“Alright, now I know you’re making this up!  Where did this fucking come from?!” 

While Bull laid into Varric, Praxis used the last of her strength to submerge her head and took a deep breath. 

“Tiny!”  Varric yelled and pointed, but it was too late.

Bull had been right there.  He was still holding her in his hands, the feeling going numb from the water.  He was dumbstruck.  How could she?  How could she rob him of the chance to say goodbye?  Her cold, lifeless form hardly floated on the surface.  The dwarven metal legs anchored her in the shallow pond.  Not once had Bull ever feared death but seeing it happen to her, to his heart, wrecked him.  Even the torture of the Ben-hassrath re-educators couldn’t compare with this.  He wasn’t ready for it.  A tear formed in the corner of his eye.  He wiped it away before it marked his face, but Stitches had seen and he immediately left – fear stamped on his face. 

Varric made a flimsy attempt to be reassuring, “According to her stories, this should buy us about twenty minutes.”

Bull started a mental clock and listened to it tick off the seconds.  Then the minutes passed by.  No one spoke.  There was really nothing to say.  Stitches busied himself with caring for the horses while Varric kept a look out for the others’ return.

“Twenty minutes.”  Bull’s muscles gave out, letting his massive frame slouch further into the chilly mud of the shore. 

Stitches cautiously walked nearer, “Should I start a pyre?  We can still wait Chief, I’m not…”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Bull waved at him but never took his eyes off Praxis, his mind desperate to see her chest rise with life once more.  “No sense in getting caught up in fantasies.”

Quirking his head to one side, Varric held out his hand calling for quiet.  “Do you hear that?”

It was faint, but there was a distinct rumbling.  At first it sounded too far off to give hope, but it was coming in fast.  The roar soon became deafening with added subtle noises within the cacophony.  He’d never heard anything similar in his entire life.  It had to be her people.  It _had_ to be!

Large, metal wagons came lumbering along the old road, plowing their way through the snow in the mid afternoon sun.  Seeing the machines so close, Bull was able to identify some of the sounds were the squeaking of parts working together.  They were mesmerizing to watch as neither the terrain nor the weather slowed them down.  Each one had a person sticking out of the top with a large weapon and Bull could make out two more through the front glass windows.  Current unknown threat – 12.  Krem hung on the side of the front vehicle and pointed to where they sat on the shore.  With an added kick of energy, the machines drove right up to the banks.  When they came to a stop in a perfect line with identical spacing between each one, that’s when the doors opened and the soldiers poured out. 

Fanning outward, the group established a perimeter.  Only the ones manning the mounted weapons didn’t leave the wagons.  Bull assumed their weapons operated much the same as Praxis’ gun which meant, they have full control of the surrounding area from the easily defended positions.  This group was not taking any chances. 

“Over here, she’s…she’s…oh Maker!”  Krem warded the newcomers over, but fell short at the sight of the limp, grey body.

Two men ran past Krem with bags in hand that matched the clothes they wore.  One of them stopped short, nearly falling backward.  “Holy shit you’re a big bastard!” 

“Hey, newbie – ignore the minotaur, I need to get her trauma naked immediately.  You start CPR.”  The older man with short black hair easily pulled Praxis from the water and finished removing her clothing.  The younger man looked to be about sixteen with his baby skin and he started counting as he pressed on her chest, when he hit 30, he blew two breaths into her mouth, then continued with his hands over her chest.

Meanwhile, the dark haired man retrieved a device from his bag which he had ripped open.  The thing spoke in a haunting voice but the older man ignored it, telling his counterpart when to stop and start as he set up…something.  Bull could barely keep up with the way he man worked.  His craft was certainly one either used often or practiced often.  He placed white round paper on Praxis’ bare chest.  Her fully exposed body revealed every bump and bruise she’d suffered over the past few days, most from the last fight.

“Clear!”

At the command, the younger one threw his hands in the air and scooted back away from her body.  Pushing a flashing light on the device, Praxis’ body jolted as the eerie voice stated _electric shock delivered, continue compressions_.  They started the cycle again.

Bull looked up and found the rest of the Chargers had found their way back, probably drawn in by the loud entrance the wagons had made.  Their expressions were wrought with concern, Stitches ground his teeth in frustration.  Healing magic was easy to understand and explain.  This was – not natural.  Dorian and Mahanon were the last to arrive.

The older healer shouted, “Clear!”

The electric shock jolted her once more but this time a buzz sounded from the device.  _Stop CPR.  Analyzing patient._  Both men obeyed the disembodied voice and within seconds, Praxis curled in on herself and was wrenching up the slimy green water from the pond. 

The senior healer took command away from the device, “Put her on her side in the recovery position.  I’ll start an IV line, make sure her airway stays clear.”

Bull could hear the pain in each struggled gurgling breath she took.  It was nightmarish and surreal.  She was alive.  A tamassran’s voice sounded in the back of his head _but you know she’s possessed_.

It’s what he’d been taught since birth and was a lesson reinforced throughout his entire training for the Ben-hassrath.  The only way a corpse could be reanimated is if it were possessed by a demon.  Looking on, he watched as the two men worked on repairing her as if she were a broken trebuchet.  Is this what they had done to Cullen?  Pieced him together like a broken toy?

“I’m not getting good blood pressure.  It’s still dropping.”

“Fuck.  How much did she lose?  I can’t give her another bag of hextend, it’ll dick everything up.”

“What about blood?”

“None of our guys are a match, we’d have to ask for volunteers.”

Krem stepped forward without hesitation, using a knife to cut into his arm.  “Take mine.”

The younger healer reeled back at the sight of fresh blood.  After a second, he was back into work mode and collected four small drops on a piece of paper.  The young healer watched as the blood dried, “Sorry bro, no match.”

Bull growled at the boy as he asked for Krem’s knife with an outstretched hand.  “Do me.”

There was doubt clear in his face, but the urgency set him to work.  He waved away the blade Bull wielded and instead tapped at his finger with a tiny box.  Bull didn’t feel the prick, and was surprised to see he was bleeding.  The beads of red pooled on a fresh tab, each circle taking on different patterns and shapes as the blood reacted to some unknown element that had been woven into the paper.

“God damn.  You won’t believe this Tran, but he’s a match.”

“Bullshit.”  Tran took the paper and held it at a particular angle in the sun, challenging the results.  “Fuck me.  Alright, you start his line, I’ll prep her.”

Sitting next to Praxis, Bull could spare a moment to look at her.  The exchange hadn’t taken long, but what little color that had returned to her face was gone once more.  She was unconscious again, but she was breathing.  Faintly. 

A new process unfolded in the crook of Bull’s arm.  The boy opened his own bag and pulled out all manners of things.  The Chargers had moved closer, all of them watching with rapt attention, except for Stitches who was cursing Krem under his breath as he bandaged his hand. 

Dorian spoke over the crowd, “No need to worry.  They do this sort of thing all the time.”

Bull scoffed at the statement.  “Oh, so you’re some kind expert on their culture now are you?”

“Yes, I should think I am after the amount of time I was trapped there.”

Bull felt something change and the others’ silence attested to it as well.  Everyone watched as Bull’s blood colored the clear tube that was buried in his arm then snaked its way into Praxis.

“You said we matched.  How many different types are there?”  Even as he posed the question, the only thing that repeated in his mind was ‘ _kadan – my heart.  My Heart now pumps with my blood._ ’ 

“There are four blood types and each one can either have the Rh antigen or not.  In her case, she’s type O, Rh negative.  Where other blood types have more options for a donor source, not her kind.  She has to have a perfect match.”

Krem spoke over Rocky’s head since the dwarf decided to take a seat for the odd show, “How did you know what to look for?  I didn’t see you test her.”

Healer Tran spoke up while reading a tablet similar to the one Bull saw the pictures on months ago.  He jiggled the thin slate of obsidian, “Before we left I received her full medical history.  I know everything about her biologically.”  He peeked over the edge of the slate to quirk an eyebrow at her current state.  His eyes lingered at the new prosthetics.  “It seems I have some new entries to create.”

“Some?  Shit dude, she looks like someone tossed her ass in a blender.” 

Tran ignored the younger healer and watched another soldier walk over to join the group.  “Is she stable?  Will she survive?”

“I believe so.  It’s a little iffy right now.  So long as she doesn’t get an infection, I’m optimistic.”  Tran went back to his tablet, listening to the blips and reading the numbers the filtered across the surface. 

The newcomer straightened his back and deepened his voice as he addressed the Chargers.  Bull was pegging him with each move he made.  Insecure – fresh – first mission.  Weak.

“I am Captain Rothstien.  I am in charge of this unit.  Part of my mission is to retrieve Major Praxis and return her home.”  He paused before turning on Dorian.  “Are you Dorian Pavus?”

The Tevinter’s eyes darted briefly, a horrible tell that the captain didn’t pick up on.  Regardless, Dorian fessed up with a curt nod of his head.

“The other part of my mission is to find her kidnappers and bring them to justice.” 

“This is absurd!  When the amulet – ”  The mage’s mouth slammed shut the second the captain pointed his weapon in Dorain’s face.

“You will have an opportunity to defend yourself at a later time.  For now, my team will secure this site.”  As the man spoke, the perimeter team turned inward and closed in.  They were trapped. 

Krem snarled at Dorian who only shook his head in resignation, “I strongly suggest we don’t fight this.  I know what they are capable of.”

Gathering up his shield and sword, Krem stepped over a log and threw his weapons at the captain’s feet.  He spat at the man’s feet.  “What now big man?”

“You and your people are my captives until I can determine your intent.”

Bull sat by helpless as the foreign soldiers restrained each of the Chargers one by one.  The soldiers had the system down to a science for swift efficiency.  They worked in pairs, one stood guard while the other executed the required task.  His guys were moved from station to station, first removing weapons, then removing armor, patting the clothing to find any small blades or tools, written notes were taken, personal trinkets were placed back in pockets.  The final station was a group of five soldiers that helped the prisoners sit on the ground, separating them enough that they couldn’t touch, a lone soldier went around and removed everyone’s boots.  In the freezing snow and with the sun setting, taking off without boots would seriously hinder any escape attempt. 

Up to this point, the only words that came from the soldiers were commands.  They didn’t even speak amongst themselves.  The quiet made it easy for Bull to whistle at Dorian in the pack of prisoners.

“So ‘expert’ how are you going to talk your way out of this?”

Captain Rothstien rose his voice to talk over anything Dorian had thought to say.  “Dorian Pavus is under arrest and while he is in my custody, no one will talk to him until we get this story straightened out.”  Nodding his head at a tall lean man who had dark eyes that seemed to be bottomless.  He carried a certain air about him and without saying a word, the man put Bull on edge. 

Rothstien gave his instructions, “Doc, need you to find out where Cullen Pavus is.  Who’s in charge here?  Him?”

The man named ‘Doc’ followed the captain’s hand gesture to Krem.  “No.  Not that one.”  Doc paced the group, then doubled back to stare at Bull.  Bull knew he gave nothing away, knew how to perfectly school his expression and yet, the man passed him a knowing smile.  His white teeth shone brilliantly in contrast to his dark skin. 

_I wonder if everyone over there just buys perfectly straight teeth.  It’s impossible each person is born with them._

The stray thought echoed in his mind as Doc left him alone to return to the captain’s side.  “The organization here is…different.  This is not a normal faction that we are facing, but to answer your original question – it’s him.”

Doc pointed directly at Mahanon who reacted with a sharp inhale and wide eyes.  This complicated things significantly.

Varric gave a short laugh and aptly summed up the whole situation, “Well, shit.” 


	2. The Face Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relations between the two opposing forces continue to go poorly.

Tran worked with his partner, teaching as they worked.  It wasn’t a surprise when Bull herd the younger man referred to as Baby Doll.  Fitting.  The healers outfitted Praxis with all manner of devices that monitored everything that her body could possibly do.  They were attached to her fingers, around her throat, over her chest.  A thin silver blanket tucked around her seemed pointless.  Parchment would have provided more warmth.  

Then she began to sweat.  The gears in Bulls mind turned full force as he tried to understand how that was possible.  A device provided a number indicating that her internal temperature was acceptable.  Tran replaced the silver for a sage green woolen blanket.  

Praxis’ breaths became deeper, steadier with a slight rattle in the back of her throat.  Color returned to her face slowly and her fingernails were a faint blue instead of dark purple. 

“Alright, we’re all done with you.”  Healer Tran pulled the tubing from Bull’s arm then held a small ball of cotton on the tiny incision until it quit bleeding. He  _waited_  for the bleeding to stop on its own.  Glancing at his own healer, Bull smirked to see Stitches squirming in his breeches, itching to take care of the cut instantly with a salve.  

The dichotomy of the way these healers worked was astounding.  They brought a woman back from the dead.  Someone who’d been dead for longer than Bull had ever witnessed.  Yet, a prick from a needle they let bleed until it stopped on its own, her bruises they left untreated.  If it hadn’t been for Stitches' work earlier, Bull wondered how half-assed they would have tended to the slicing gashes that the demon left.      

Bull responded to his dismissal, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Tran shot a sidelong glance at the captain who nodded, “Zip tie ‘im.” 

Bull presented his hands to be bound.  The white material was thin but strong.  His wrists were separated to prevent him from using torsion to pry them loose.  He only briefly considered brute force as the design of the thing seemed more likely to slice through his wrists before he could crack them free.  

The sun didn’t have much longer before it set.  They’d have to pass the night like this.  The soldiers were odd to watch, disconcerting most of the time.  The worst was when they behaved as one.  It was really fucking creepy.  Randomly, they would all look in one direction or all laugh at the same time.  He eventually decuced that the devices in their ears and around their throats enabled them to hear one another, even at a whisper.  Dorian previously mentioned something of the nature months ago.  It explained the odd the guarded talk – everyone can hear everything. 

Their uniforms were certainly…uniform.  The kind of fashionable aesthetic Tevinter would be excited about.  Everyone had the same material, same cut, and they were covered in pockets.  The wagons were large enough to hold vast amounts of gear and supplies, yet they chose to wear much of it.  There were some hints of personality here and there.  The woman manning one of the mounted weapons had a small stuffed bear that dangled from her shoulder.  A thinner man had a playing card tucked into his helmet.  If it could even be called that.  The helmets were rounded, covered in fabric and had no face guard.  The uniforms seemed laughably insufficient considering the damage their weapons could inflict. 

The team split into two groups – one guarded the prisoners and the campsite, while the other – who the fuck knows.  Only the healers were nearby and with the minimal amount of conversation among them, there was no telling what they were up to.  The friendliest faces to greet them where the two dogs, Rhino and T-Rex.  They had to be the leanest dogs Bull had ever seen used for military operations.  They were almost tiny enough to live in a noble Orlesian household.  Neither could have been more than ninety pounds – a mere snack to a mabari.  The dogs switched between pacing around the Chargers and rolling in the snow. 

The sun had about another hour before it would set.  Bull knew his guys were hungry, but the important issue would be keeping warm once the sun went down.  A group of soldiers piled out of one of the wagons, as though a meeting had come to its conclusion.  The captain approached Mahanon with purpose.

He held up a tome sized tablet with a picture of Skyhold across the surface.  “This castle not far from here.  Is that where you’re based?”

Skinner kicked dust in his general direction from where she sat, “How could you know?  Fucking blood mage.”

“Skinner, dearest, that’s hardly helping.  Besides, they don’t know what a blood mage is.”  Dorian tried to balance a placating tone without sounding condescending. 

The captain turned back to Dorian, “You volunteering to translate Mr. Fancy Pants?”

Dorian narrowed his eyes with a sneer.  “Ah, and here I thought  **we**  were the barbarians who resorted to infantile name calling.”

Tran interrupted the exchange when he snapped at Baby Doll.  “Hey!  No, we’re not using that.  I said NO!”

Praxis was whimpering and coughing.  Her deep sleep had shifted to a restless one.  Drawn to the healers, the captain felt the need to assert his authority.  Definatly new to leading. "What’s going on here?”

Tran rolled eyes unseen by the captain, “The numbness from the frozen lake is wearing off.  Even unconscious, she can feel the pain from whatever caused her injuries and drowning.”

“Her lungs will feel like they are on fire.  She needs some kind of painkiller or she won’t get any quality rest.  It’ll prolong her recovery.”  Baby Doll argued his stance with the Captain.

This also irritated Tran and warranted another roll of his eyes.  “Look, I’m the head medic, I’ve worked with her before and I know she won’t want these.  I’ll give her Motrin, but that’s it.”

Praxis stirred more, like a wounded animal, jerky and uncoordinated.  Her discomfort heard through tiny cries and gurgled moans. 

“Cap, Motrin isn’t gonna to do shit.”

Keeping his eyes on the tortured woman, the captain called out for Doc.  A tall man that had been leaning against one of the wagons approached with the relaxed gait of a seasoned solider.  Few things would rattle this man.  The Doc easily had fifteen years, if not more over the captain.  The kid may be the one in charge, but it was the Doc who actually kept things running with his years of experience.  This was a dynamic that Bull was familiar with, he’d seen it often with nobles who wanted to play war. 

“Doc, you’ve worked with the major before.  Would she refuse painkillers?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”  The cadence of his tone was the same as though asked if the sky were blue.  “It’d have to be life or death before she’d agree to that.” 

Baby Doll looked a bit chastened so Tran gave the younger healer a light punch in the arm.  “Hey, don’t stress.  You’re right, it’s just…I know her and this is important.”

Suddenly, the captain spoke to the air, answering a voice only the soldiers could hear, “I’m on my way.”

He walked off toward what used to be the center of Haven and Doc moved next to Bull, keen to not block his view of Praxis.  “Hi.  You hungry?”

“If you have food, you should give it to the others.”

“ _hmm._ ”  The noise dismissed the suggestion.  He pulled a colorful cookie from his bag.  “They’re not the ones short on blood, you are.  If the cap’n decides to let you loose, you'll feel a bit lightheaded.”

The cookie wiggled in front of Bull’s mouth until he took a bite.  It was good.  More than good.  A jelly filling was a pleasant surprise and as soon at the tasted the sugar, he could feel his body craving more.  Doc was patient as he helped Bull finish off the treat, biding his time to endear himself to Bull.  A classic interrogation tactic.

"I've had worse injuries."  With the cookie gone, Bull licked his lips appreciatively, “So, let’s cut the crap.  What is this all about?  Why the restraints?”

Doc sat on the ground to Bull’s side, out of kicking range.  “Well, for starters, you’re a big ugly bastard.  Never seen anything like you before.”

“That’s a half lie.  You were quicker to tie up the rest of the crew.  What the fuck does your captain want with Dorian and Cullen anyway?  They went through all this to get two guys?  I call bullshit.”

Doc laughed quietly.  “You and me both.”

“Easy there.  I’m not your buddy and we’re not getting friendly.  You threaten my guys and I will not hesitate to fuck you up.  Don’t pretend as if things are going well.”  Bull tugged on his restraints, “because they’re not.”

“But you’ve gotten friendly with Praxis.  More than friendly I suspect.”  The man paused to give Bull the chance to confirm or deny.  Bull kept silent, to which the man shrugged and kept on.  “I trust her.  So long as she hasn’t gone over the deep end, I trust her judgement of folks.”

“Your captain doesn’t trust anyone.  First assignment?”

“Second.  He’s learning.  This one is going fairly smooth compared to his last one.  Typically, when a team is sent out they operate under the magic phrase of observe, orient, decide, act.  Thirdly, look at this from our perspective.  We show up and the major is dead from fresh injuries and upon further examination, she has dozens of older ones and don't get me started on the fact she's missing  _another_  foot.  In this instance, I have to agree with the captain.  He’s chosen the path of observe, overreact, destroy, apologize.”  Doc laughed to himself until Baby Doll called out for Tran who was sitting in the shade of one of the wagons eating out of a bag.

“Hey!  I think she’s waking up!”

Tran shoved the rest of his meal in his mouth and rushed over.  Both healers knelt at her side, dividing their time between checking her vital signs and watching her awaken.  Doc remained seated, nothing in his manner betrayed any concern or anticipation.  He retrieved a cookie for himself and watched with little concern.

Tran was talking low and delicate to her.  If Praxis responded, Bull couldn’t hear it, but he could definitely hear Baby Doll, “I thought you said you used to work together?  How could she not recognize you?”

“Will you just go get the damn thing?”  Tran pointed in Bull’s direction. 

 _Lovely_.  It’d been awhile since he was last regarded as less than a person.  Bull’d almost forgotten what that was like. 

Doc chuckled just for Bull, “Yes, more than friendly.”

Leaving the smug man behind, Bull went to Praxis’ side.  His insides knotted tight and his mind was screaming at him to stay away.  His eye watched every movement of her body, seeking any telltale sign of her being possessed.  When he settled next to her, she looked frail and scared.  Just as she had back at the Winter Palace. 

“Hey kadan.  You need me?”

Unlike that last time, she knew who he was immediately.  A weak, warm smile crossed her lips to show blood stained teeth.  She had taken a death grip of Bull’s hand which he returned with equal force.  “Innamorato…don’t…don’t let go.”

“Are you serious?  You fucking killed yourself next to me.  I owe you some serious payback.”  He wanted to roar at her but couldn’t find the anger.  She sounded normal, if a bit tired, she acted like herself – not some puppet of an abomination. 

She grinned as best she could then went into a coughing fit.  The spittle was watered-down blood with a muddy consistency.  Tran eased her on her side to let it flow out easier. 

“Stitches needs to have a look at her.  She might have the corruption.”

“Corruption?” 

Bull pressed his face closer to the healers, drilling home the seriousness, “She was attacked by a demon.  If they slice you just right, they can pass on the corruption.  She’ll rot from the inside out.”

Tran stared blankly back at Bull.  The debate played out silently behind his eyes until yelled at one of the guards across the field.  “Hey Monty!  Send their medic over here!”

Although he was offered his boots, Stitches brushed past them as he briskly made his way to Praxis’ side.  Mumbling under his breath he pushed aside the blankets and felt the length of her ribs.  “Good catch Chief.”

“What?  What were you feeling for?”  Tran watched each of Stitches movements, committing them to memory.

“Run your finger along here.  You feel those ridges?  It’s the corruption sticking to the bone.  I need to flush it out.”

While Stitches worked on making a potion, the captain rejoined them.  “Any change?  Is she able to be interrogated yet?”

“Not yet sir.  She’s having to be treated for ‘corruption’” A clear skepticism was attached to the word, but the captain absorbed it with a mindful ear.  “They're claiming that they were attacked by demons before we showed up.”

“Demons?”  The surprise in the captain’s voice was more mild than Bull would have thought for a man who came from a world without magic.  “So, the monument, just up the hill there.  It’s true?  This village was destroyed by a dragon?”

“Well it wasn’t a damn kitchen fire, I’ll tell ya that.”  Stitches grumbled while he worked, then paused to look up at the man.  “The Inquisition was in its early stages. We had no defenses, poorly fitted armor and no forewarning.  It should have been a blood bath - all of us slaughtered.  If it hadn’t been for the Herald,” Stitches nodded to Mahanon.  “We’d all be dead and rotting in the snow.”

“So the Inquisition is an army built to defend against demons and dragons?”

With an impatient sigh, Stitches laid it all out – Corypheus, the breech, the demon filled rifts, the Herald of Andraste.  When he was finished the captain looked up at the green tainted sky as he stroked his chin.  “Huh, kinda thought that was normal for here.”

How many times had Bull heard that from Praxis?  A thousand?  Each time she was presented with an oddity she accepted it or applied her own oddly construed logic.  Hence, the pet dragon and the original assumption that all non-mages had Templar abilities. 

Praxis maintained a death grip on Bull’s hand.  He returned the pressure in kind, hoping that even in her unconscious state she’d know he was still there.  “So, you know who we are, what we do.  How about you untie my guys before the sunsets and we all freeze our asses off?”

“The castle that’s just up the mountain.  Is Cullen Pavus there?”

“That castle is Inquisition headquarters and he is the Commander of its army.  Do you really want to pack up and travel there just to get one guy?”  Bull knew Cullen was leading the bulk of the army to Highever.  If he baited the guy into traveling to Skyhold, then that would put them all in a more defensible position, even with a partial army.  Regardless, it’d be better than freezing to death in Haven. 

Dorian shouted across the small field, “If we are to return to Skyhold wouldn’t it be sensible to release us from these damnable restraints?  Even if we did attempt to run it would be to your intended destination.  Actually, it’d be rather comical.”  He chuckled lightly at the thought.

Dalish kicked a small cloud of dust in his direction.  “Chief, I’m not sure how Magister Pavus  _feels_ , but I for one feel a bit ill at the moment.  I don’t think even a draught of lyrium would keep me from feeling like my head's been  _cut off._ ”

Dorain had mentioned before how even being near Praxis messed with his magic.  A group of eighteen clustered together like this had to be dicking up their magic considerably.  

The captain thankfully ignored her comment and didn't ask for details.  “Doc, any thoughts?”

The relaxed man shoved the last of his cookie in his mouth.  “I dunno sir, not for sure.  These are trained men.  They’ve been as silent as we have so I have not learned much.”

Quietly, Bull listened, wading through what  _he_  was able to learn from this new banter. 

“Then we ask the major?”

Doc shrugged his shoulders, “Could.  It’s clear that she’s blended in, but I can’t promise that there isn’t an element of Stockholm going on here.”

The one word screwed up the captain’s face.  The man didn’t like being forced into the situation of having to make a decision based on partial facts.  It held greater meaning than a single sentence could convey.  The main clue that Bull caught on to about  _Stockholm_  was that it meant Praxis’ word would be challenged.  Added onto that pile of suck, their  _medic_  was aware of Praxis’ memory issues.  They needed to get back to Skyhold for their own safety, Praxis could no longer be counted on to smooth things over. 

Definitively, the captain chose the mission over all else.  “Shady,” One of the men on guard perked his head up.  “Pack up the prisoners.  We’re going to the castle.  Ruiz, can you handle the horses?”

The only one who wore leather boots gave a curt nod.  “Not a problem.”

At the announcement of moving out, a round of smiles and smirks ran its course among the Chargers.  Mahanon nudged Dorian at his sober expression.  “You worried?  There’s still a quarter contingent back at the castle.  Lace and Leliana will have plenty of forewarning.  Besides, there's only a few of them.”

Dorian dipped his head morosely, “You haven’t seen what they can do.”

Praxis abruptly curled violently in on herself, which caused both Stitches and Bull to instinctively push themselves away from her.  The vomit splattered across the frozen dirt.  A green glow outlined the blackened chunks.

“Stay back!  That’ll eat through your skin quicker than a nug pops out a litter.”  Donning gloves, Stitches cleared out the rejected muck and tossed it aside.  “Hey, you feeling better?”

She managed a limp nod of the head.  “Bull...”

“Chief’s right there.”  She gave Bull’s hand a faint squeeze. 

“Make sure you’re empty before you try –  _tsk,_ never mind, she’s out again.”  

Stitches poured a tincture over the glob of expelled corruption before burying it.   A typical practice done to keep the corruption from spreading to the vegetation.  Scanning the area, Bull saw that the horses were wrangled and all of his guys save Stitches were tucked away in in the wagons.  He delicately wedged his arms under Praxis and lifted her as best he could with his hands bound together. 

The captain was quick to react to being in the shadow of his full height.  “Holy mother of God you’re a big bastard!”

“Nothing gets by you does it?” 

“C’mon big buy, you can ride with us.”  Doc lead him to one of the wagons that held no other Inquisition members.  The contraption held two up front, a security detail poking out the top, Tran, and Doc. 

One medic, one leader – dispersal of assets in the event one of them was taken out or damaged.  Bull surmised that Dorian and Mahanon would be in separate vehicles because of this tactic. 

He passed off Praxis to Tran and Doc’s waiting arms before gingerly pulling himself up and in.  Every inch of the inside was used as storage.  Boxes were crammed under the seats, gear was strapped to the walls and ceilings leaving the only bare spot an aisle down the center where they laid Praxis.  Even crouched at her side, Bull’s horns touched something at all times.  There was no getting around the fact that this was not built to accommodate anything near his size. 

The wagon rumbled alive, humming noisily with a constant tremor.  Doc and Tran strapped down a few items, tended to a wall of lights that was similar to the tablet the captain used earlier.  It added to the cacophony of noises that were assaulting his ears.  It was maddening, mostly because the soldiers ignored it so soundly.  How could they block out so much chaos? 

A short exchange of words amongst everyone inside, then they were lumbering into motion.  It shook and rattled, but was still a smoother ride than any carriage Bull’d ever ridden.  Doc sat strapped to a seat, swaying with the motion.  He shouted at Bull, but the roar of the wagon drowned out anything intelligible.  He accompanied the question with exaggerated facial expressions, then a hand gesture he’d seen Praxis use countless times.

_You okay?_

He nodded.  Doc stared at him thoughtfully, then reached off to the side to rummage in a bag.  He pulled out a device which he motioned for Bull to put over his ears.  The second he did, the noise of the wagon shrunk to a quiet whir.

Doc: [Better?] 

The man’s voice was slightly distorted and popped right in his ear as if his lips were pressed against him. 

Bull: [Yes.] 

His voice echoed in his ears and didn’t sound like his own.  The eeriness churned his stomach. 

Doc: [You still look really uncomfortable.]

Bull: [This is like having a demon talking in your head.  It’s seriously fucked up.] 

Doc: [Well, no demons here, promise.  You’ll be able to hear everything that’s said when all the trucks talk to each other but, only this crew can hear what you say.]

The truck jerked from side to side suddenly as it crossed over the rocky terrain.  Bull wondered how Dorian was doing since he complained of seasickness each time they were near the coast.  For the most part, the trip was quiet.  Observations were made by the soldiers along the way.  A tree that looked unique, the depth of the snow, the two moons in the sky.  There was a certain impassiveness that pervaded their comments.  Nonchalant even.  As strange as they found Thedas and its people, nothing about it frightened or concerned them. 

The captain’s voice crackled in Bull’s ear.

Rothstein: [First watch tower ahead.  Gunners, button up]

The instructions were given out to all the trucks and the gunner for their truck quickly unlocked their weapon, dropped it down inside then closed a lid on the hole in the roof.  The woman with the teddy bear sat with her legs crossed.  The truck slowed down and Bull craned his head to see out the yellow tinted window.

Doc: [We’re going to try and blow by.  So long as your guards don’t present a threat, we have no reason to stop.]

Looking out the side was pointless, so Bull turned to toward the front.  The trucks formed a diamond around the horses.  He could see arrows being shot but couldn’t hear any of them striking.  Some braver soldiers shouted and swung their swords, but not a one left a mark. 

Rothstein: [They’re getting too close.  Gunners up.]

Bull: [No!  You can’t!]

He reached out to stop the woman from popping out the top, but Doc stopped him.

Doc: [It’s alright, it’s just deterrence.]

Checking the front window, he saw the other gunners using sling shots to pelt the Inquisition soldiers, forcing them to take their helmets off.  Teddy Bear gunner shined a bright green light in their exposed faces which stopped their attacks. 

Doc tapped Bull’s shoulder and pointed to the bright green light.

Doc: [It temporarily blinds them, but won’t have any lasting damage.]

Bull had to admit that it was encouraging to know that their first resort was non-lethal engagement.  For as long as their captain felt to be in the superior position, then destructive actions would be kept to a minimum.  Bull was curious what the reaction would be if they felt sincerely threatened. 

The next four check points were by passed in the same manner.  It was discouraging to think that their defenses were so easily ignored and evaded.  Once Skyhold was in view, the gunners mounted their large weapons.  Skyhold loomed on the horizon.  Signal braziers burned high and bright.  They had been warned of the approaching threat.  All of the refugees that had small camps outside the castle proper were abandoned.  As they drew closer, Bull could make out the defensive formations set up outside the castle gates.  For the first time, the portcullis was barred shut. 

The trucks slowly rolled to a halt.  A Free Marches war horse headed the Inquisition forces.  The rider sat firm and authoritative, bow and arrow at the ready.  Lace Harding left nothing to chance.  She was flanked by twin rows of mabari, a platoon deep of warriors, archers and mages positioned on the battlements.  She had prepared for a full on assault, the lessons from Haven still fresh in everyone’s mind. 

A mage mounted next to Lace cast a spell to augment her voice over the distance.  “You have Inquisition horses in your possession.  What have you done with the riders?” 

Her tone was fierce and steady.  Bull hoped Krem could hear it as well.  Even in this tense moment, it was fucking hot. 

Rothstien: [Shady, send Varric to negotiate.]

The only sound were the gunners counting up the forces, pinpointing as many ranged assets as possible. 

Doc: [Bull, would they attack knowing your people are with us?]

Bull: [Depends.  Would you kill us to get to Cullen?]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: Tensions continue to build as Rothstien isn't the best diplomat


	3. Tensions Settle as Drama Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course as things get better, other things get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For context, the trucks they are using are MRAPs and if you've never seen one before,  
> [here ya go](http://www.marines.com/operating-forces/equipment/vehicles/mrap)

“Well, we’ve certainly gotten our balls stuck in a bear trap this time.” 

“Your analogy does us no favors.  Surely there is something we can work with.”

“Seeker, I’m up for anything you can offer.  As you can see, my hands are empty.”  Varric surveyed the gathering of Advisors and Inner Circle that remained at Skyhold – Leliana, Josephine, Solas, Vivienne, and Cassandra.  The sun was rising over the mountains but the heat hadn’t reached them yet.  Varric found he actually missed the thick heat of the truck he’d been in.  “Here’s the quick and dirty: Captain Stick-in-the-Ass is pissed that Praxis isn’t exactly in mint condition.  He’s also on the man hunt for Dorian and Cullen.  Why he thinks Cullen’s last name is Pavus sounds like a fun story to me, but is for another day.  It may be best to not correct him until we can ask Praxis about it.”

Leliana rubbed her fingers together as she thought aloud, “We could send a proxy as a bargaining chip for the Inquisitor at a minimum.”

“Won’t work Nightingale, they all have portraits of the both of them.  They pegged Dorian the moment they saw him.  There’s no way you’d be able to pull it off, then added to the fact that Curly’s got all that scarring from the new heart.”  Varric shrugged his shoulders, “Then again, I’m not sure what lengths you’re willing to go to…”

Solas calmly provided another option.  “Perhaps we could target the wagon which houses the Herald?  In the ensuing battle the Chargers could free themselves, surely.”

“Not a bad idea, if I knew which one he was in.”  Varric gave a helpless sigh.  “He and Sparkler were the last ones packed up.  I can only tell you which one he _isn’t_ in.”

“What is Praxis say in all this?  I’m surprised the little viper hasn’t simply turned her people toward Highever to drag Cullen back to her world.”  Vivienne’s fingers were in constant motion.  This close to the front lines, she could feel the disturbance the new soldiers caused to magic abilities.  

“Everyone is tight lipped about where Curly actually is.  I know you and Praxis had a bit of a falling out at the Winter Palace, and sorry to disappoint, but Praxis died.”

“What?!  They killed her?”  Josephine was aghast, eyes wide. 

“No, no.  She was protecting Mahanon from a pride demon, it killed her.  She was as dead as the archdemon, I swear, but the look on Bull’s face…we had to try something.  His Inquisitorialness sent everyone out to the six winds to find her people, we knew they had to be close according to the amulet.  When they arrived, they brought her back to life.”

“Abomination most likely.”  Viviene managed to make a sneer sound elegant.  “Worse than simply being herself and before anyone leaps to her defense, any dying person can fall prey to demons, not just mages.  They’ll possess anything, even a corpse.” 

Solas nodded, deep in his own thoughts.  It was uncertain if he was agreeing with Vivienne or merely considering what she said. 

“Regardless of what or who she is now, the issue we must solve is how do we get the Herald back.”  Josephine tactfully brought the subject back to task.  “Is there any other way we can appeal to this captain?”

Varric scratched behind his ear nervously.  “Well…this guy seems pretty set on his ‘mission’.  He came here to take back Praxis and to incarcerate Dorian and Cullen for kidnapping her.  Pretty straight forward.  He does rely heavily on the advice of one of his guys, Doc.  If we can stall, we may be able to get Praxis to talk sense into him.”

“We cannot allow them to take anyone.  Look at the army they face.  There is no fear, no hesitation.  These are people that cannot be trusted.  We need to learn what we can from them to ensure that when they return to their realm they stay there.  We have demons enough without adding otherworldly conquerors to the mix.”  The harsh assessment that Solas provided cut everyone to the core.  He was right.  He’d been right from the beginning when he wanted to destroy the amulet.

“Alright.”  Tapping the quill to her cheek, Josephine offered her plan.  “Leli, you said that they didn’t attack any of the outposts correct?”

“Yes.  Only minor injuries from sling shots, of all things.”  Leliana didn’t even have to refer to her notes.  The news had been surprising enough that it was difficult to forget.

“That gives me hope that they are willing to seek out a non-violent solution.  Let us see how they respond to diplomacy.”  Josephine sported the most confident smile she could muster.  Engaging in diplomatic negotiations was well within her expertise, but to do so in the face of an unknown force who was armed to the teeth was intimidating.

The group concurred either with silent nods or a murmur of approval.  It was a gamble, but they were out of options.  Leliana gave Josephine’s hand a light squeeze.  “I’ll inform Harding.  She will provide you with an armed escort.”

“Which I will lead.”  Barked Cassandra. 

“Cass, you don’t have to risk it.  I can do this alone.”  Josephine tried to push her out of it, but Cassandra’s mind was set.

“Absolutely not.  I am not blind.  We are at the precipice.  Each of us vulnerable.  Do you know Mahanon and Dorian will survive this to be happy together?  Do you know that Praxis will awaken demon free?” 

She advanced on Josephine so aggressively that the Ambassador took a step back.  She was stopped in the midst of her second step when Cassandra wrapped an arm around her waist then crashed their lips together, gripping the back of her perfectly coiffed hair.  Raw passion was poured into the cascade of kisses.  Deep, heated breaths set both women’s blood on fire.  Josephine felt her hair coming loose, but it was of no consequence.  The truth of the Seeker’s words cut to the core.  Every task, every mission meant life or death.  No one was promised a happy ending.

Cassandra paused her onslaught but never removed her lips from those of her lover.  “You are my love, my reason to believe that this fight is worth all we have lost.  I will never abandon you.”

Josephine panted, reluctant that they were not alone, although by now most had already retreated to a respectable distance to allow them this moment.  But it was only a moment.  Maybe their last. The thought spurred Josephine to action.  They had to succeed.  She wanted more, needed more.  The vibrant colors that Cassandra brought to her world were too precious to give up. 

“Together, then.”  This time Josephine’s smile was brimming with stout confidence. 

***

The possible outcomes flitted back and forth in Bull’s mind but he was struggling to find focus enough to settle on the most probable solution.  Praxis was still having a rough time sleeping.  The intermittent whimpers were now coupled with squeaks and tears.  Pain held a tight grip on her, but her strength was returning.  He saw it in her color, the firmness in her hand. 

Bull’s headset became alive with voices talking over each other as the team picked out targets and identified areas to avoid.  Seeing Bull’s discomfort, Doc took the head piece back.  The loud hum of the truck was a welcome change.  Observing how they worked, it reminded Bull of the few times he observed Dagna craft in the undercroft.  All constant movements and multitasking. 

Doc opened the back door a crack.  The cold wind sliced through the interior with a vengeance.  “You two stay here.  I’m going to see what the captain needs.”

A nod in response, then the man was gone.  Bull was left with the heat, the hum, and the feet of Teddy Bear gunner who continued to man her post.  Praxis took a few deep breaths, coughed heavily through whimpers before her eyes fluttered open.  The pupils were wide, but as they shrank, recognition dawned on her face.

“The Bull.”  The roughness sounded as if she hadn’t spoken in months.

“Kadan.”

A toothy smile made her eyes pinch shut, “I love when you call me that.”

“Enjoy it while you can.  Once you’re on your feet again, I’m going to tear you in half for that stupid shit you pulled.”

She patted his hand with a sigh.  “Good thing that’ll never happen.  No feet, remember?”

“Ass.”

“Sweet talker.”  Her breathing remained labored, her consciousness drifted.  She seemed normal.  It was a good sign she knew who he was, but she wasn’t aware of what was going on.  There was no comment on where they were or the deafening noise that made their insides rattle.  Possibly, this was a familiar memory, the sounds a comforting background noise if he were to judge by her relaxed state. 

The back door creaked open, Bull moved to shield the brunt of the cold from Praxis.  Doc waved with his hand, “Yo, big guy, c’mon.  Varric’s headed back with a crew of your people.”

Doc and Bull walked in silence through the snow.  The horses were gone, presumably returned to the stables.  The Inquisition army was still on edge, Lace at the ready.  Ahead of them were the captain, two other soldiers and the Inquisitor – the only one to nod pleasantly at Bull.

“Bull!  I can’t decide which I prefer, the whipping cold of freedom or the sweltering heat of captivity.”

Clapping the Inquisitor on the back, Bull eased himself causally next to Mahanon.  “Ah.  It’s not that windy Boss.  Couple of stiff drinks from the tavern and singing songs will set you right in no time.” 

The words only filled time.  Bull needed the excuse to get close, to place himself firmly in a bodyguard position.  Rothstein would have to get through _this big bastard_ if he wanted to take Mahanon.  Praxis was making a good recovery and judging by Doc’s behavior, the man would take care of her.  If need be, Bull could snatch up Mahanon and make a break for the castle. 

Doc and Praxis.  A seed of thought planted the idea that there once were things between them that went beyond professional.  Doc picked up on their relationship too quickly, even for a trained interrogator. 

Bull refocused his attention on the meeting at hand.  Varric led Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra to the middle ground between the two opposing forces.  Josephine was the only one with an amicable smile.  Everyone else held a tight grip on their weapons.  The truce felt as if it were made of a house of cards.  The ever present gentle breeze in the Frostbacks could have toppled such a fragile thing. 

With an elegant bow, Josephine introduced herself in a proper, longwinded manner.  “Greetings from the Inquisition.  May we extend our sincerest thanks for the proper care of our horses and…”

She continued on, Bull only half listened.  He’d heard these empty speeches too many times and knew that these words were only meant as placations.  They were stalling.  Just as The Chargers had waited for Praxis to become conscious at Haven, the Ambassador and Spymaster had similar plans.  Rothstein and Josephine spoke back and forth.  At least the guy knew how to be diplomatic when he wanted to be. 

“I agree to returning with you to have the Inquisitor further explain the complications concerning Cullen Pavus.  However, Dorian Pavus shall remain with my men.”  Rothstein wedged his ultimatum into the conversation.

“How convenient!” Interjected Bull, “Here I was wanting to get to know your boys better and now we have no choice.  You see, The Chargers are Dorian’s personal guard.  We stay with him.”

Josephine hid a smirk behind her note board while Mahanon patted him on the arm.  “Well, seems you’ll get to enjoy the brisk outdoors for a bit longer.”  The contact was brief, but he felt the Inquisitor’s gratitude.  His lover would be safe. 

A brief awkward silence fell.  Both sides wanted to ask questions about the situation, yet Rothstein’s presence stifled them.  Mahanon moved first, stepping slowly closer to the safety of Skyhold.  A ripple of tension and subtle movements among the soldiers attested to the tentative peace.  Trust was fleeting.  Bull stayed beside him, until they were met with Cassandra, who wordlessly took over the duty of bodyguard.  Bull wanted to laugh at Rothstein’s offended face.

_Oh please try to start something you little shit.  I’d love to see you try and get through her._

Rothstein and the two soldiers joined the crew returning to the castle.  He gave his final orders over his shoulder.  “Doc.  Get the men set up and ensure that the…Chargers are fed.”  He tapped the device wedged in his ear.  “Call me when Praxis is up and speaking coherently.”

“Understood Captain.”  Doc’s words were firm, but his tone held a hint of boredom.

Doc knew she’d been awake moments before and hadn’t said anything.  Bull didn’t call him out on it.  _Never a dull moment._

Mahanon stopped in his tracks to give his full attention to Bull.  “I’ll have Harding send some men over to set up a tent.  I doubt anyone wishes to listen to a Tevinter moan endlessly about the cold.”

“Hey, Boss, that’s cold.  You shouldn’t talk about Krem that way.  He’s delicate.” 

That got the roaring laugh from Mahanon he’d hoped for.  Anything that would keep Rothstein at ease so he wouldn’t do anything stupid.  _Let’s pretend we’re all friends until I can get the upper hand._

Bull watched Rothstein, only two guys as he walks into the den of an unknown force.  Either Praxis’ people were stupid as all get out or too damn cocky to know what’s good for them. 

Doc stayed beside him as they watched the group disappear into the castle.  Once out of sight, he spoke his commands to his people, at times hand gestures accompanied the instructions, but with no one else around, the man simply looked crazy.  However, the new bustle of activity behind them confirmed that everyone heard him clear as day.  Bull watched the trucks take up new positions in a nearby clearing, Doc directed them with curt words.  As soon as they were set up to his liking he nudged Bull to join him at the new camp site.

Shortly before reaching the area, his hand shot up to his ear, then he responded, “Don’t worry about it.  It’s a new place.  This happens.” 

 _It’s a new place.  Praxis._   Bull continued to follow Doc until the man waved him off.  “I’m sure your guys need you, don’t they?”  When met with stoic silence, the soldier sighed.  “Look, I really need to have some time with Praxis alone, alright?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Smart man.  Smart enough to know I’m asking right now.  Don’t make me _tell_ you to back off.” 

Ah.  There it was.  Doc lurked in the shadow of the captain but knew when to aptly apply his power and influence.  Huh, Bull figured he might like this one. 

“Fine, but I want to be able to see you.” 

Doc nodded, making an effort to look Bull in the eye.  He appeared insulted that someone dare be taller than he.  Bull tucked that nugget of info away to use later.

He doubled back to join the Chargers, who weren’t far off.  They’d settled in a group, rubbing at their wrists and sneering at their captors.  The only anxious one was Dalish.  Going this long without magic was getting to her, but Dorian was quick to comfort.  They both held firmly to their staffs as Dorian wrapped an arm over her shoulder. 

“Ah!  Tiny!  About time you joined the party!”  Varric shouted his greeting, his breath forming small clouds in the fading chill.

“Why isn’t your hairy ass sitting pretty up at the castle?”

“Ah, you know me.  I couldn’t resist a good story and I have a feeling this is where it’s going to be.”  The twinkle in his eye was obvious.  He was expecting some sort of romantic reunion between Bull and Praxis.  Some, over the top sweeping up into arms and passionate kissing type thing that always filled readers with impossible ideals. 

Choosing a seat next to Krem, he gave a slight hand gesture to have the rest of the Chargers fall into pre-planned positions.  Varric fell into line, keeping to himself, but had quill eagerly in hand.  At first glance, it would appear the Chargers were having a simple conversation, but the oft repeated banter was only noise to help Bull focus on reading lips.  He’d not lost track of Doc this whole time.  The lanky bastard had disappeared into Praxis’ truck.  After a few minutes, another soldier arrived with an oversized bag.

Bull waited. 

Doc jumped out of the back of the truck first, revealing Praxis standing in the doorway.  She was a different person.  It wasn’t just that she wore the uniform of her fellow countrymen, it was the way she held herself.  The way she spoke to Doc.  During her entire time with the Inquisition, Bull had difficulty in determining her moods.  She hid her discomfort, addiction, regret, sadness – all of it so well.  It was only after the Deep Roads when she completely broke down that he felt she had stopped trying to hide. 

With Doc, she was truly herself, completely open.  With these people, she was home. 

It cut deep, but he had known from the beginning that time changes things, changes people.  The nature of the world never permits things to remain stagnant for long.  The conversation with Leliana from nearly a year ago surfaced to play out in his ears once more. 

**_“But does she care about the Inquisition itself?”_ **

**_“She’s not one to fight for ideals, she’s done that before and been burned.  At the end of the day, she will protect her people, even if it means sacrificing some of the Inquisition’s objectives.  I’m certain that nothing shy of her own people finding a way to reclaim her would have her turn against any of the Inquisition members.  I don’t know for certain how strong her loyalty is to her homeland, so who’s to say?  That’s still an unknown.”_ **

Usually when presented with an unknown element of an equation, Bull experimented with contributing factors to see how they would play out.  Determine what combination of elements would have the outcome tilt in his favor.

He snorted aloud.  Well, in the Qun’s favor.  He hadn’t operated like that since the Storm Coast.  Mahanon was not that type of person, not that type of leader.  This Rothstein, yeah, definitely.  He’d need to watch his ass, even if it wasn’t that pretty.

Praxis slumped to sit at the threshold of the back door, her legs dangling over the edge.  Doc was kind enough to present his profile which made reading lips only slightly difficult.  The tall man was nearly eye to eye with her and he presented her with a tablet, much like the one she had leant to him during his journey to the Hissing Wastes.  She had to be looking at pictures.

His assumption was confirmed when Doc pointed at the device then gave a description of a person.  Bull watched Praxis’ eyes scan the area then land on the person matching the portrait in her hand. 

Zolia Chavez, Z: marksman gunner - set records in training camp – currently on husband number six.

Paul Pain, Biscuit: Adequate gunner – expert gunsmith – has a girlfriend but she’s living with three other men.

Tru Tran: medic – was moved into a training unit and was only permitted this assignment if he brought Baby Doll.

Jon Hoiss, Monty: truck commander – started personal training as a side job

Shannon Mostellar, Shady: another truck commander – recently got a degree for graphic design – handler for T-Rex.

Sam Cruz, Sammy: communications – recently divorced

Brendon Myrick, Risky: communications as well – recently divorced, long story for later

Seven other soldiers had been left out, to include Rothstein.  Soldiers she didn’t know.  Doc knew.  He’d seen her episodes before and even planned on her having trouble when they arrived.  Others from the team noticed what he was doing but brushed it off with no comment or second glance.  This was a norm for them and they accepted her. 

Without being prompted, Doc handed her a cigar which he helped light.  A few deep draws sent thick puffs of white smoke circling over her head. 

Tran was kneeling by a different truck, rearranging his medic bag, “Dammit Doc!  Couldn’t you have waited?!  Ya could have asked the fucking medic!”

Praxis pointed at him with her middle finger to the sky.  A biting insult she’d demonstrated to Bull before, but Tran easily shook it off to return to his work.  She returned her attention to the portraits.  It wasn’t long before she was able to ask specific questions about Doc’s people.  The memories slowly surfacing.  At one point, Doc was satisfied enough that he brought up Stockholm again.  Praxis laughed at him. 

_Believe me.  I have no fear for my life with the Inquisition and I am not under duress.  These are good people._

_I was hoping you hadn’t been dropped on your head too hard.  I’ve already met your boyfriend._

_He’s not my boyfriend._

Through his Ben-hassrath training, Bull had learned how to make snap decisions, thinking and planning all occurring at once to stretch time to the length necessary to arrive at the most correct outcome.  In his life he’d only experienced three times when the world came to a standstill - when he chose to save the Chargers, when he thought Praxis would kill him, and this moment. 

Doc was visibly taken aback, a perfect mirror of Bull’s soul.  Recalling the turmoil he felt betraying Gatt and then later watching him die, he found it lacking significantly to this.  This was pain.  This was watching her die all over again. 

Praxis crushed the end of her cigar against the truck, smudging the tan with a small black circle.  Grey ashes floated on a breeze.  All things in life were temporary, intangible.  There was no point in hanging on, no point in emotional involvement.  That is what he’d been taught.  Breaking from the Qun he forged his own path into the unknown with the Inquisition, with her.  Damn if this wasn’t a punch in the dick.  The ashes disappeared into the wind, their purpose served – a brief moment of comfort for Praxis then discarded without a care or second thought. 

Tucking the remainder of the cigar into a pocket, she leapt down.  _He is my world.  My everything.  This is…I don’t know.  It’s more.  It’s better and I can’t do without it.  Without him._

_Haha, you sound like a fucking Nicholas Sparks book._

_I’m serious Doc.  I’ve stayed clean because of him.  I’ve never been happier or felt more normal than I do with him._

Doc tilted his head to meet Bull’s eye, checking that he’d ‘heard’ what she said.  Of course the sneaky bastard would know Bull was reading the conversation.  Averting his gaze, Bull turned to Krem and slapped him on the back as he let go an out of context laugh.  He picked up his eavesdropping when he saw her jerk on Doc’s sleeve to keep him from staring. 

_Don’t look!  And don’t tell him I said that._

_Why not?_

_Because I don’t want to scare him off.  He already puts up with a lot of my shit and I don’t want to add another._

_Alright, then why don’t you introduce me?  It’s Bull right?_

_Actually, it’s The Iron Bull.  _Her grin was one of pride and unabashed adoration.

Bull wasn’t a man of poetry but he felt as if his blood which now coursed through her heart connected them.  Each squeeze of her organ clutched him tightly with every breath.  She needed him to be alive.  He needed her to feel alive _._  

_Kadan.  My heart._

*** 

The entire afternoon passed in a blur for Rothstein.  He was shown the entire castle, met nobles and even dined in a medieval looking hall.  It all seemed too fantastical to be true.  He’d thought that with Praxis having been here for so long that the local populous would be accustomed to seeing a sight such as himself, but he’d been wrong.

Every single person observed him as if he were a purple people eater.  The Ambassador had done a decent job in keeping many of the more curious persons at bay.  She’d even found him a room to retire to following dinner so that he could have some peace and quiet after the long day.  He’d thought about walking out to check on the men, but he knew Doc had everything well in hand.

Perhaps too well.  Throughout the entire mission, he noticed that more often than not, the guys would ask Doc before asking him.  It didn’t matter how insignificant it was, he should have been the first in line.  The annoyance ate him and he immediately regretted allowing the man to hand pick most of the team.  Leaning an arm against the window opening, he stared at the nothing beyond.  That might be trouble later on, but how would he deal with it?

“Enter.”  He responded instinctively to the knock on his door.

A woman wearing a mask entered his room, her bodyguard lagged behind in the hallway, closing the door behind her.  The dress was adorned heavily with lace and pearls.  Her gloved hands were petit, her waist cinched to highlight her delicate frame.  Rothstein was thankful for the curtsey as a handshake would undoubtedly crush her. 

“My esteemed Captain, I am Lady Pasclina de Verness.  I am hope that you have found yourself well in this strange new world that has welcomed you so openly.”

“I…yes.  Thank you.”  He’d had no time to pay close attention to the culture and mannerisms.  He was uneasy being alone.  “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Oh my.”  She purred.  “Quite direct aren’t we?  Well, considering the behaviors of that barbarian Praxis, one could hardly be surprised.”

 _Barbarian?  My God, what had the major done?_   The woman walked closer, her footsteps silent due to her light weight. 

“I do not know how well you know that woman, but she has been nothing but a hindrance since the day she arrived.  She has tainted the views of the Advisors, she’s fucking that Maker blighted _beast_ , and she blinded my brother without provocation.”

“Wh-whoa.  What?”  She was getting too close.  Rothstein took off his armor the moment he’d entered the room.  The uniform was thin cotton, a fact that she reminded him of as her fingers ghosted over his crotch.  Unbidden, he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I want to ensure she pays for her crimes instead of being continually rewarded by these sheep in the Inquisition.  Take her down for me, ruin her.  Incarcerate her.  Do whatever is in your power to get rid of her and I will be in your debt.”

Her thigh pressed against him, but the lace – _Oh God_ – that lace around her wrist brushed against his face when traced his jawline. 

“What.  What if I have particular tastes?”  Her hips nudged his.  How long had it been?  How often had he been laughed at that he gave up approaching women?  Now one was throwing herself at him?  He didn’t give a fuck what the terms were.  Her demands faded the instant they passed his ears.  “Yes.  I’ll do it, if you can do as I say.”

“My dear Ser.  I am Orlesian.  Pleasure is the only reason for living.  That and revenge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Finally getting to the smutty part. Also, so lovely NSFW art for the next chapter as well :)


	4. A Playdate and Promises (Art) (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chargers and soldiers settle in for the night. Rothstein gets more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: pegging, humiliation
> 
> The sex scene is between the '***' if you wish to skip it.

Praxis looked tired, physically and mentally.  Doc offered Praxis an arm, which she refused at first, but after a few steps, she readily accepted.  As they came closer, she leaned on him more and the conversation among the Chargers petered out.  Curiosity moved some of the idle soldiers closer.  Meanwhile, a group of Inquisition soldiers arrived to set up the promised command tent.  No one paid any attention to them.  Everyone held their breath to see what would happen between Doc and Bull with Praxis in the middle.

"Doc, this is The Iron Bull.  Mercenary captain of the famed Bull's Chargers."  Praxis beamed when she spoke.

"Mercenary?"

A shock wave of suspicion tore through her people.  Their hands gripped their weapons tighter, their ears placed on high alert.  They were jumpy little bastards with their own assumptions about mercenaries.

"No, no.  Not like Blackwater, more like Robin Hood."

Bull was surprised how the adjusted comparison to this ‘Robin’ had an instant impact on the soldiers.  Their guarded stance was wholly abandoned.  The abbreviated banter littered with odd references continued in a steady stream.

"Really?"  Doc's interest was piqued.  "Led by the Hulk?"

"Mmm, more like the Hulk crossed with Sherlock Holms with a James Bond origin story."

Doc snorted, "Didn't take long to figure out the Sherlock part."

"What sort of idiocy are you shems talking about?"  Skinner was not impressed.  Her nerves were frayed at the incomprehensible exchange.

"Amazing!"  Varric stood in his excitement, using his hands as he spoke. "It's somewhat similar to Qunlat, or the best I could learn from Fenris.  Everything is contextual and can reference a broadly shared story, idiom, or experience.  That Sherlock reference - you described Tiny here as having a brilliant, logical mind.  Right?"

"Exactly."

"What's with the Hulk part?"  Krem tilted his face up, ready to defend his Chief’s honor.

"The Hulk is large and indestructible.  Hard to beat that."

Doc prodded her.  "What about your Inquisitor?"

"Oo- that's a bit tougher, but I'd say Rand al Thor.”

Tran piped in, “Who?”

“Jeez, ever read a book?  Um…how about Lilo from Fifth Element?  That actually sums it up better."

"So he's the only one who can save the world?"

Before Praxis could answer, Z pushed past Tran, her tiny teddy bear dangling wildly.  “All I want to know, and that these assclowns are too afraid to ask, is are you shacking up with this diablo?”

“Jesus, Z.  You really going to jump on that train just because of the way he looks?”  Praxis rolled her eyes as if bothered by a petulant child.  “Please.  The devil would shit himself if he had to face off with Bull.  Besides, call him that again I’ll punch you in the cunt.”

Z whistled mockingly, “Alllrriiight.  Sheesh!  Chica got sand in her vagina.  When’d you lose your sense of humor?”

Praxis smirked at the other woman who took no offense at the thret.  “Figured I’d piss on my territory before you guys got any bright ideas.  By the way, when did you guys pop out of nowhere like fucking Billy the Kid?  You tied everyone up and then hold Dorian against his will? What the fuck’s up with _you_ guys?  This isn’t our normal TTPs”

Doc cleared his throat.  “Well, I’m sure you’ve guessed that this was a special assignment.  Getting here was no easy task, so of course they wanted the best.  With you unavailable to lead the team, that means that someone else had to be put in charge.”

Praxis groaned as she rubbed at her face.  “Lovely, because for some reason you couldn’t?”

Doc shrugged.  “I’m too close to retirement to care about objectives.  That’s my speculation at least, so someone more career minded needed to be put in charge.”

Praxis’ eyes darted around, Tran gave a subtle shake of his head then tilted it toward two other soldiers.  Outsiders.  Praxis killed her line of questioning immediately.  Bull took note of which ones understood Doc’s meaning – _someone younger and easier to control_.

***

Rothstein swallowed and found his own salvia too thick to squeeze down.  He’d spilled his deepest desires to this stranger and for once, she didn’t laugh at him.  Instead, she tugged on his arm and led him to her chambers.  In a matter of moments, he found himself sitting on her bed and staring at two masked, petite women stripped down to their corsets.  They worse pastel colored gloves that came to their elbows.  Thin, delicate ribbons held up pure silk stockings.  Brass buckles and supple leather secured two prominent strap-on dildos to each woman. 

It was beautiful.  It had been such a long time since he’d felt so weak, so turned on.  He felt inadequate.  Sliding from the bed he landed on his hands and knees.  Even crouched like this, the homage he paid these women was not enough in his mind’s eye. 

Like an animal, he crawled to where they stood.  One held a glass of champagne, the other hand on her hip as her foot tapped impatiently.  He went for her first.  He cradled the inconvenienced foot to suckle on the tiny toes tucked within.  She raised her foot then poured her glass of champagne down her leg.  She pressed her foot painfully into his mouth, wedging it open and pressing his tongue down to have him take all of the sparkling liquid. 

When he choked, she tsk’d at him.  “My, my.  Can’t even handle your alcohol, how can you be expected to handle all of this?”  Her hand swept over her front to indicate her plump breasts and the protruding phallus.  This close it seemed unnaturally large, larger than anything he’d used before.  His heart skipped a beat at the hope it was.

Recognizing her voice, the woman in green was Pasclina.  The other woman, he didn’t have a clue who she was.  Maybe the bodyguard from earlier?  He only thought of her as the lady in red. 

“I’m not impressed.”  Red grabbed the poker from its slot near the fireplace.  “Let’s see if there is anything redeeming about this boy.”  She padded around behind him. 

He was at their mercy.  He was nothing but a toy, a hole to fill.  Worthless.  Lucky they even spoke to him.  Repeating the words over and over in his head, Rothstein struggled to pant quickly enough to keep pace with his racing heart.  Excitement crackled under his skin.

He screwed his eyes shut and tenderly bit into Pasclina’s foot as Red pressed the hook of the warm metal between his belt and his ass.  He moaned while fighting the urge to squirm when she used the warm poker to shove his pants down to his knees.   The sharp point scraped against his skin leaving an angry red line.  The danger sent sparks through his nerves.  He couldn’t help the tremor that swam through his legs to curl his toes. 

“Mmm, yes.  Just like that.”  Pasclina tossed a pillow on the ground to rest on her knees before him.  “You ready to taste me little boy?”

He pressed his face excitedly at the base of her ‘cock’ then ran his tongue along the shaft, flat and slow.  The cured leather was threated to be smooth and waterproof.  Bumps and ridges were added beneath the surface.  Rothstein’s imagination ran rampant at the thought of what the texture would do to him. 

Taking the toy in his mouth, he drooled all over the tip than used his hand to spread it along the full length, imagining it as his own.  Pasclina gave tiny hums of pleasure, but he needed to hear more.  Feeling that his performance was inadequate, he took the toy deep in his throat.  He sucked and swallowed.  His hand reached up to explore behind the apparatus strapped to her body.  He found her slit and with pleading eyes, he asked for permission. 

She laughed at him in a way that scolded him and made him feel foolish.  His prick became harder.  “Yes, love my pussy, little boy.  Pet my pussy.”  Her breath hitched faintly when his fingers eased in carefully to obey her command.  “ _Ah, oh, yes…_ suck me harder you little shit.” 

A tiny thrust made him gag.  This time her laugh was devilish knowing she’d hurt him.  In response, he was more gentle.  Carefully delving into her wetness, he listened to her moans to keep her happy.  It was tough to tell with the mask.  The mystery actually added to his own pleasure.  He felt the need to work harder, that he earned each lilting giggle and every breathy sigh.  They tasted as sweet to his ears as the leather prick violating his mouth.  His jaw already ached.

When slick fingers slipped down the crevasse of his ass, he bit down hard into the toy.  Aside from him not being interested in men, this was another reason he preferred toys.  He was a biter.  Twisting at the waist, he tried to see what Red was doing but Pasclina snatched his hair and forced him back over her erection. 

“You’re not done pretty boy, you do what I say.”  She pulled him off and swayed her hips to have the phallus smack him on the cheeks.  The act was belittling and her laugh humiliating.  He whimpered to encourage more.

Rothstein grabbed hold of her waist and squeezed lightly.  The fine lace was in sharp contrast to the prick pounding the back of his throat.  His mind drifted while his fingers traced the soft material around to her tiny, taut behind.  Her muscles tensed and relaxed in a steady rhythm as she thrust into him.  Rothstein’s head swam in ecstasy. 

Then he felt sudden pressure.  Urgent pressure that didn’t let up.  He struggled to breathe around the unforgiving leather that filled his throat.  Red was pushing her cock into him.  Entirely too much lube had been applied and oozed down his leg.  He felt filthy.  The floor dug into his knees and tears pricked in his eyes from the faint pain she was unknowingly inflicting.  The pain grew as she inched deeper and deeper.  His ass squeezed around her, hugging every ridge that ringed the dildo. 

“Please!”  He fought to free his mouth, the roots of his hair stung from her fierce hold.  “I- I need to watch.”

Pasclina hummed and rolled her eyes.  Rothstein ran his hands down her leg, caressing the silk wrapped flesh until he reached her foot.  She lifted it with the grace of a ballerina and permitted him to lick, suck, and kiss.  His fingers ghosted over her ankle and his thumb pressed lightly into her inner heel.  It was so dainty, so fragile, and absolutely perfect.    

Meanwhile, the lube from his ass dripped all over the floor and his knees screamed in pain against the rough stone floor.  He felt like garbage that these women had pulled from the dumpster.  He pressed his cheek against the top of Pasclina’s foot and inhaled deep.  The clean scented smell of soap assaulted his nose and a new rush of lust swarmed within him.  He was trash and they wanted him.  They would wreck him and remain pure.  The pressure in his chest cinched at his lungs like a vice.  _Ruin me, ruin me, ruin me._

The foot pulled away and Rothstein held his breath hopefully.  She snapped her fingers toward the bed.  Rothstein scrambled to obey and flung himself on the mattress.  He grunted when he sank to hit the hard surface beneath.  The bed looked comfortable, but it wasn’t a spring mattress. 

Red giggled as she approached him, her hand slicking lube over her cock.  “Aw, pretty boy isn’t used to roughing it with these Fereldan dog lords.”

He lay on his back as Red shucked his pants off of him, leaving his heavy boots on.  Pasclina sat near his head and played with the pockets of his blouse.  She ran a finger over his name, branch of service and then his specialty badge.  All the while Red wedged herself between his legs, entering him once more. 

Grunting with eyes pinched shut, he tried to will himself to relax, but it wasn’t working.  His body fought despite the crazed arousal his cock got out of it.  The nagging pain wasn’t unbearable, but he’d had better, years ago. 

_Years.  Shit, no wonder I’m so tight._

He’d played around at home in private, but it wasn’t the same.  It wasn’t a beautiful woman with luscious curves, petit frame and raging power.  He loved to be fucked.  He loved the sound of a woman’s voice, the smell of her skin, the sexy way lace, silk, and pearls decorated their bodies like the elegant goddesses they were. 

Pasclina slapped him across the face, the sharpness muted by her gloves.  “I asked you a question dog.”

Rothstein’s heart sank at the angry tone of her voice.  A tingling fear shot through him.  He was afraid she was no longer having fun.  He couldn’t bear the thought she was no longer enjoying this.  They had come too far so he scrambled to salvage the situation. 

“I’m sorry.  Anything you ask I will do.”

She gave a small wave to Red who adjusted her angle and increased her pace.  Rothstein arched his back and sucked in a grateful breath through his teeth.  The plunging made his stomach do flips.  The way her fingers dug sharply into his thigh made his blood boil.  He reached his hand downward only to have it slapped away. 

“No.  Listen to me.  I need you to swear that you’ll get rid of Commandant Praxis.  Get rid of the Chargers and that fucking Qunari traitor.  Do you understand me?”

Clutching the sheets, his body rocked with each thrust.  He had to obey, had to, or she’d take his fantasy away.  But, he had orders…“I have to take Praxis back, but The Chargers… _ngh…_ it depends…I don’t think… _nnngh…_ ”

“Then kill them.”

“No!  You’re-” 

The world erupted into a burst of colors.  Pleasure swept through him and set him on fire.  He could die.  The sensation was suffocating.  Simply die.  Pasclina had thrown herself over his neglected cock.  Her lips pressed hard against his base and her nose nuzzled into his ball sac.  Laying on her side, her dildo was still accessible and he greedily took it on mouth and hand.  Sucking relentlessly, he savored every second.  He didn’t want it to end.  It couldn’t end.  This was utter bliss. 

Red taunted him, “Yeah, fucking suck that shit.  Suck it you filthy little slut, dirty little bitch.  Swallow that dick.” 

She slapped at his thighs and he knew he was getting close.  A tremor ran down his leg.  He felt the impossible pressure building, then Pasclina and Red pulled away from him.  The loss was a kin to a punch in the nuts.

“No, no, NO!!”  He screamed in agony.  His entire body shook uncontrollably and his sweat turned ice cold. 

“Swear to me.”  Pasclina’s tone was level and patient.  She would do this all night if she saw fit.  This wasn’t a game for her.

He squirmed helplessly, mentally restraining himself to where she’d left him.  He pulled at the bedding and bucked his hips as he whimpered.  Shaking his head violently back and forth.  A tiny voice whispered in the back of his head, reminding him that he could easily over power these women.  He wasn’t even restrained.

And that’s what made it better for him. 

His abs were sticky from precum and he became frightened he’d come too soon.  He couldn’t do it, not without the pressure, the heat, the lust.  It would be hollow and hardly any better than blue blals.  His chest heaved and he gritted his teeth.  The need to fuck, the need to rut against anything pulsed through his cock.  “Oh God please, touch me.”

“Your God is not here.  Swear to me.”  The arch of her silken foot fit perfectly over his throat and applied pressure.  The new rush pried his eyes open to find her standing over him, one hand braced for support on the headboard.  Her pinky toe played in the softness under his jaw. 

“ _Oh fuck yes._ ”  The tension in his arms was painful.  White knuckled, he’d clawed hard enough to grip clumps of mattress beneath.

She raised her foot to trace a toe up over his chin, his lips, then settled to tap on his nose.  A sob bubbled over his lips.  His body ached.  _Need-need-need- **need-need** _ pounded in his head and through his bones to the point they felt splintered and raw.  All else in the world was blocked out.

“Yes.”  He answered blindly.  “Anything, yes, yes, again.  Do it again.”

She replaced her foot on his throat and pressed down hard when Red entered him once more.  Red chose a ruthless pace.  The leather straps pinched at his skin and tugged at his hair while the metal buckles slapped against his flesh.  From his angle, he only saw the charming ringlets that framed Red’s mask. 

 _So lovely._ Sweetness and sugar was wrecking his asshole.

His hands shot up to clutch Pasclina’s calf and force it further down on him, demonstrating the numbing pressure he desired.  Rothstein’s mind was fading as black spots popped into his vision.  He tried to give a warning, but the second he opened his mouth, the pressure on his neck kept him from drawing breath.  Fortunately, Red was attentive and reached for this leaking prick as she continued to ram into him. 

A few short strokes and he was wasted.  His spend coated everything – him, the bed, even some droplets made it in his hair – it was glorious.  _So, so long._ The world spun around him and his body felt like debris from a crashed ship after a storm.  Calm waves rocked his tattered remains to sleep.  A command cemented itself within him.  _Anything, anything to have this again._   _Anything._

With Rothstein unconscious and half-dressed at her feet, Pasclina removed her mask to laugh freely.  The sound lacked mirth, lacked victory or any other hint of satisfaction.  The musical notes of it were nothing but dollops of evil dancing throughout the room. 

The two women removed their apparatuses, Red leaving hers wedged in its new home, and they left the wrecked man where he lay. 

***

As soon as the tent was up, the entire group relocated.  There was a slight change in attitude of the new soldiers.  They abandoned their posts in the trucks completely.  Each one of them were locked up like a treasure chest with chains and locks.  None of the soldiers carried their weapons in hand any longer.  They either dangled from a hook on the shoulder or were locked up in a truck. 

Inside the massive tent, Bull had some of his guys start a fire while the others organized their packs.  The size of the tent warranted four entrances, one on each side.  This made sleeping arrangements easy as both parties had equal access to an escape route if needed.  No location was better than the other which avoided one argument. 

While the Chargers saw to the comforts of the sleeping arrangements, Praxis’ people saw to the food.  It had to be the most complicated system that Bull had ever witnessed.  It started with a box and in the box were bags and in the bags were more bags, and in those bags were more bags.  Everything was neat and labeled and individually wrapped.  The ones who had been named earlier had a system set and coaxed the other soldiers to participate.  Although much of the contents were individual and meant for one person, some items they gathered together for communal use.  The matches were collected and put in an existing stock pile in a small box. 

Praxis helped by taking the tiny pouches of salt, pepper, sugar, powdered milk, and coffee grounds were poured into larger containers.  It was completely ass backwards and made pining down their culture more difficult.  All exterior observations spoke of uniformity, everyone had the same thing.  But the meals were individualized.  Each one was unique with the men exchanging them to find the flavor they preferred.  It made Bull’s head spin to consider such a luxury for each soldier, each meal, every day. 

“What’s he talking about?”

“Hm?”  Praxis looked up to find who Bull was referencing.  “Shady?  He’s looking for the vegetarian meal.”

Some of the Chargers had finished their tasks and were settling down on the warm ground near the fire.  They watch Praxis work with equal incredulity as Bull and once coupled with her statement, were unable to keep their comments to themselves.

“What is the matter with your people?  Are they Fade-touched?”  Skinner shook her head with disgust to see the amount of sugar that was allotted for such a small group.  “They say they are cooking, but the fire is in here.  Why are they out in the snow?  Do they expect Andraste to hand food to them from the stars?”

Patient, Praxis only smiled as she tightened the lid of the sugar container.  “Because the heat pads that are used to warm the food smells terrible.  Best to keep that crap outside.”

“Crazy shems.  It’s unnatural.”  Skinner mumbled.

Praxis scanned the nearby area then lowered her voice, “Dorian, Dalish, how are you holding up?”

“I thought you outranked him.  I thought you outranked all of these people.”  Dorian hissed.  “Tell them it was an accident and send us back to Skyhold.  I can’t stand being shut off like this again!  Not here!” 

Praxis’ expression fell with empathy.  “I’m sorry but it doesn’t work that way.  Technically you’re right, _but_ I’m not in charge, Rothstein is.  Without orders, I can’t take command.”

“Call for a mutiny then!”

Praxis didn’t get the chance to respond when a group of soldiers joined their circle with food in tow.  Z carried a pot Praxis gave her from the travel packs the Inquisition used.  She handed it and a pouch full of stale bread over.

Bull sat down next to Praxis at the familiar sight of a communal meal.  “Thanks Z, I appreciate it.”

“So…everyone just eats from the same dish?”  She looked on as the bread was parceled out.  Z even scrunched up her face when the Chargers dipped the bread in the mix, took a bite, then dipped it back in for more.  Bull would have thought the woman convinced the act of sharing food instantly turned it to poison. 

Praxis only shrugged in the affirmative and reached out to take a separate brown pouch and a spoon.  Inside was an unrecognizable mush that she ate with gusto. 

“Why go through all the trouble of packing your food this way if it’s only going to come out like this?  Not that I’m complaining, it just seems that for the same amount of work there would be something that looked more….like food.”  Rocky kept eating, undeterred by the appearance of his meal.

Z sat cross legged and balanced crackers on her knees as she spread jelly over them.  “Yeah, these things aren’t much at first, but you get used to them.  The benefit is in the shelf life, that’s why it tends to taste a little off.  I think you can get up to ten years out of ‘em.”  Securing her food first, she whistled at Shady across the tent.  “Hey!  How old are these?  You still got the box?”

“Six years!”  He shouted back.

All of the Chargers paused mid chew as the date sunk in.  Six years.  The beef and vegetable stew that looked two days old at worst, was actually six years old. 

At this point, everyone was seated around the fire, the two groups fully segregated.  Doc was the last to join. 

“Doc, is there any way that we can get Dorian and Dalish back to the castle?”  Four of the soldiers perked their heads up in surprise at Praxis’ bluntness and outright disregard for the captain’s order. 

_Those are the new ones._

The rest knew Praxis from some point in time so Dorian’s suggestion of a mutiny might actually be plausible.  They could either work to gain the trust of the four, or easily remove them from the equation.  The only question that hung in the air was how much the older ones trusted Praxis. 

Doc looked at Risky and Sammy who both shrugged.  Doc thought out loud.  “You know, I was supposed to tell the captain when you were up and talking.  Since my mic seems to be malfunctioning…”  Sammy and Risky stuffed their mouths with food, stating their time already claimed for eating instead of fixing.  “I think it would be wise to send a pair of runners.”

Praxis peered at the door that was tied shut to see a sliver of darkness beyond.  “Well, with it so late I’d hate to disturb his rest after such a rough day.  You guys should probably head over, bed down for the night and take care of that message first thing in the morning.”

Baby Doll’s jaw fell open.  He looked from Tran, to Risky, then to Doc.  “This, this is ridiculous!”  He tapped at his blouse and spoke in a firm voice, clearly trying to reach their leader.  No one made an effort to stop him.  Bull listened as Dorian and Dalish held their breath.

“Captain?  Captain do you hear me?  Captain!”  He turned accusingly to Risky when there was no answer.  “You did something.  How could you?!  The captain’s all alone over there and you just cut comms like that?  What the Hell is wrong with you?”

Risky took his time to finish the bite he’d been working on.  “Slow down Baby Doll.”

“Of for fuck’s sake quit calling me that!”

Z snapped at him.  “We will when you quit acting like a little puta.” 

Risky cocked his head in agreement, “I was going to say ‘child’ but that works too.  Besides, we didn’t do anything to the comms.  Captain probably took his gear off to go to bed.”

“Or he’s captured, or worse.  What is the matter with you guys?  Aren’t you concerned about him, about the CA guys?”

“How about you go with them to verify for yourself?”  Praxis offered.

Baby Doll’s eyes darted aimlessly as he considered the option.  It was risky if he truly believed the worst had befallen his leader as nothing would prevent the Inquisition from doing the same to him. 

“Don’t antagonize the boy, Kadan.  Runt like him wouldn’t have the balls to escort those two back to Skyhold.”  Bull planted the barb.  It was a cheap trick but the idiot fell for it.

“I’m not afraid!”  He stood suddenly, half of his meal abandoned on the ground.  “C’mon.  You want to go so bad?  Let’s go.”

Dalish and Dorian leapt at the chance to get away.  They left with little ceremony, the Chargers understanding how badly the mages wished to be away and the soldiers were just as eager to be rid of Baby Doll. 

The silence lingered while the two groups ate.  The fire was roaring and the heat radiated well enough that no one had to crowd each other for the warmth.  Doc waved a hand, “If you guys want, you can drop your gear.”

All but the three remaining newbies began to undo the straps of their armor.  If it could even be called that.  A front plate, back plate, and endless pockets.  It was borderline useless.  Monty, the large, muscle thick man, took it a step further and removed his long sleeved under shirt.  All of the Chargers noticed the tattoo that covered his right arm.  It was identical to Praxis’.

“Oh for the love of Pete Monty, please tell me you plan to stop right there.”  Whining at him, Praxis rolled her eyes.

Monty flexed a few muscles, making them dance a little before answering.  “You know me.  Can’t miss a chance to show off.  Besides, it’s hot.”

Shady kicked playfully at the half naked man.  “No one wants to see you _show_ off.”

With a laugh Praxis explained to the bemused Chargers.  “Years ago we were at a club and Monty was completely shitfaced.  There were a couple of dares going around, and long story short, he ends up parading up and down the bar with his dick hanging out screaming for tips.”

Tran piled his gear in an odd lump in just the right way that he was able to recline with his torso propped up comfortably, hands resting behind his head.  “Shit.  At least he had an excuse that night.  Why the fuck do you have to keep whipping it out?”

One of newbies stood as he spoke, the look of fight or flight flickered in his eyes.  “Whoa, hold up.  You guys just weirdly avoided the captain’s order, send Ken off by himself, and now you’re talking about a dude’s junk?  Am I missing something?” 

Sammy tugged at his pants.  “Sit down Ronin, everything’s cool.  Most of us have worked with Praxis before.  She says we’re safe, so, we’re safe.”

Ronin’s questioning gaze found only non-committal shrugs from his two compatriots and with a sigh he sat back down.  “Alright, but you guys do realize this is really fucked up.  Right?  I mean, you’re trusting someone that has assimilated into their culture.  She’s even dating one of them.”

Praxis used her spoon to flick a pebble at the doubter.  “And I’m keeping the peace so no one has to sleep in their armor.  You’re welcome.”

Sammy nudged Ronin, “Easy kid, you don’t wanna piss her off.”

He quirked a brow, ready to ask why, but Shady groaned and spilled into his story before Ronin could get a word out.  “Oh man, I don’t even remember what I did!  Jesus fuck.  Remember that time in St. John’s?  So, we’re at this strip joint in Canada.  I’d never been to one in Canada.  It’s a strip joint!  They’re all the same right?  No!  No they’re not!  You see in Canada they don’t have dollar bills.  They have dollar coins.  Vengeance over there, convinces me to tip the girl by trying to get a dollar coin to land in her cleavage.  Oh holy God, never, never throw coins at a stripper!!  These big motherfuckin bouncers come at me while the chick is screaming and throwing my coins back at me.  Another stripper comes out of nowhere and rips my belt off and starts beating me with it as I’m getting dragged out of the place.  Hey, guess what these assholes are doing!”  He waved his hand to implicate everyone.  Apparently no one was innocent in this tale.  “They’re laughing and taking pictures.  Shit I don’t realize my shoes are missing until they toss me on my ass in the snow.”

“Don’t be pouty, I gave you a ride.” 

“Monty, a piggy back ride after being in a strip club is not the most comfortable way to get back to a hotel.”  Shady drank water from a clear bottle, then gestured with it.  “At least I didn’t piss her off in Mali.”

A different newbie spoke up as he slowly removed his gear.  “What happened in Mali?”

They all laughed but Risky was the one to claim the story.  “So we’d just finished up four months in this place, roughing it, like worse than this roughing it, okay?  Praxis calls up HQ and plays some phone tag to finally get a name and number of the Ops place that can order us a plane outta there.  At the time, traveling by land was impossible, the area was just too hot with conflicts.  The first call, she’s all nice and sweet but they still give ‘er the third degree saying that our cargo load wasn’t enough to warrant sending a plane, but we were too large for a helicopter.  She makes calls for about a week before flipping out, but she didn’t do it over the phone.  Oh, Hell no.  This was awesome.  So, she calls up saying that she’s got 16 PAX and two pallets.  The flight gets approved and we’re given a pick up time.  She goes into town and purchases stuff to fill a second pallet.”

“What?  That’s shitty.  I can’t believe they wouldn’t pick you guys up.  What’d she buy?  Just random cheap stuff?”  Ronin had finally divested himself of his gear and was sucked into the story. 

“Wait a minute, I’m getting there.  Alright, the plane shows up and they know they are picking up spec ops guys, so when we told them the boxes on the second pallet were classified, they didn’t question us.  When we landed, their people unloaded everything and we unstrapped our personal gear from the first pallet.  When the pilot saw us walking away from the second pallet he called out ‘Yo, you forgot your stuff’.  Praxis just shouts back at him, ‘No man, that’s a delivery for the Ops guys’.  I really wish I’d been there.  That pallet was rigged to fall apart the second anyone tried to loosen the straps.  Every fragile little box on that damn thing was filled to the brim with manure.  I have the most wonderful vision of that prick who delayed us in country for a week getting completely slimed.”

The entire group exploded into laugher.  Some of the words were unfamiliar but the gist of the story was universal.  Praxis edged closer to Bull, her body inviting him to wrap an arm around her.  In a single breath, he felt the tension melt form her muscles.  Bull took this as a sign that the wait was finally over and he signaled Krem for his guys to relax. 

Another story was told, then Praxis encouraged the Chargers to talk about their jobs taking on giants and wyverns.  Her people’s eyes lit up and they moved closer to hear about old missions.  Even the boring ones were fresh and amazing to them.  Anything that involved something that didn’t exist in their world was exciting. 

The strange aspect of it all that haunted Bull was the fact that they _knew_ what the creatures were.  They had a general idea of what an ogre or dragon looked like, but they were non-existent in their world.  The thought was troubling. 

As the evening grew later, heads began to bob and eyes fell shut as fatigue finally caught up with everyone.  Some chose to crash by the fire, others dispersed further into the tent.  Bull scooped up Praxis and set up in a dark corner.  He made a makeshift wall from an extra blanket for some privacy. 

He stripped down to nothing, then kneeled beside a dozing Praxis.  “How ya feeling, Spitfire?”

“A little embarrassed, super sore, tired, happy.  It’s been an odd day.”

Bull took great care as he eased her out of her uniform, learning about zippers and elastic clothing.  His task complete, he braced himself over her and sucked a few red marks on her neck before taking up a new conversation.

“Some of your people don’t like me.  They don’t like us.”

“I totally forgot about the whole devil thing.  I wish I’d been able to warn you.  My bad.”  Her eyes widened in shock, “You alright?  I mean, some people won’t ever change their mind.  Well, fuck that didn’t sound right.  Um, well, some people…”

“Some people are just assholes, but they’re your assholes.  You think I haven’t noticed the difference in you?  You lied to Dorian.  You could take control of that group in a heartbeat.  They are more to you than just comrades.”

Her gaze drifted as the words sank in.  “They are.”  She chuckled, “It’s almost like we had our first play date.  My kids with yours.  I think they got along alright.”

Bull pinched her soft middle, making her squirm with a giggle.  “Quit avoiding the question.”

She tucked her hands behind his head and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.  As she pulled away, she ran her fingers over his stubble.  The smile on her face already gave him the answer he needed.  Her conversation with Doc was reinforced, she loved him.  She loved him and it was strange for Bull to accept it.  It was an unexpected change in his life that never occurred to him would happen, shouldn’t have happened according to the Qun.  Yet, looking down at her, he couldn’t imagine his life without it.  Without his _Kadan._

Praxis took hold of the dog tag he never returned.  “Innamorato, they will either congratulate the luck that I have in finding such a perfect man or they will have to learn to deal with our noisy sex in the middle of the night.”

Bull grimaced, “Only in the middle of the night?”

“C’mon, cut me some slack.  I’ll add the mornings when I feel better.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing art work done by the fabulous [@slugette](http://slugette.tumblr.com/commission)


	5. Together Again (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and the Inquisitor are happy to be reunited. Leliana makes plans.

Dorian experienced a familiar feeling as he reached the bridge back to Skyhold.  Taking a deep breath, he felt the Fade invade his body once more.  The exhilarating rush was just the same as it had been when he used the amulet to return to Haven from Praxis’ world.  Color, sound, smells, everything was more vibrant, more alive.  _He_ felt alive again, instead of some empty shell that was barely a person.  There was a change in Dalish as well, the woman stood taller and walked with renewed confidence.  Yes, mages needed the Fade for more than just spell casting.  It was a part of the way they experienced the world.  Dorian had never thought of it in those terms before, yet, it made perfect sense once logic was applied to the concept.

He squeezed Dalish’s shoulder in reassurance and she returned his smile.  “Report to Solas or Vivienne, they will want to know what happened.” 

With Baby Doll nearby he was cautious of his words.  With so much time spent as a mercenary, she caught the hint easily.  _Tell them that when these people are in groups, they cut off the Fade._

Dorain waved absently at Baby Doll, “Come then.  I am certain that the Advisors will know where to find your captain.”

“This isn’t a release you know.  I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Oh.”  Dorian let slip a roguish chuckle.  “Then I shall endeavor to be on my very best behavior.  Needn’t anger the jailer now should we?”

The dense man didn’t pick up on his sarcasm and instead focused the entirety of his attention on keeping his head on a swivel.  His eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings as they made their way through Skyhold.  Whether he did so to search for his missing captain or to admire the strange new setting, Dorian didn’t care.  He was only of one mind. 

The great hall was packed with more nobles than normal.  Most likely stirred from their lethargy at the news of the averted battle.  Dorian scoffed to himself as he overheard some remark at their dismay that a ‘show’ hadn’t occurred.  Typical.  Only the privileged would speak so nonchalantly of the death and suffering of others. 

The talk changed and people shifted when Dorian and Baby Doll crossed the hall to reach Josephine’s office.  Dorian ignored the rest of their comments and ploughed rather rudely through the crowd.  Once inside the office, Dorian slammed the door shut behind them and was thankful for the guards posted outside. 

They had clearly interrupted some meeting being held by the Advisors and Mahanon, but the pleased smiles that greeted him reassured him that his presence was indeed welcome. 

Baby Doll stood ramrod straight and stepped in front of Dorian.  “I have lost contact with my captain.  I demand to know where he is.” 

Dorian rolled his eyes at the boy’s attempt to exude power over the situation.  The rattle in his voice crumbled his imaginary pedestal. 

Josephine stepped in and gracefully answered.  “I believe he retired for the evening, however, I understand that the other two who came with him are still exploring the castle.  I can have one of the guards direct you there.” 

“If I go, he goes.” 

Dorian flinched from the thumb jutted crassly in his direction.  Since leaving Tevinter Dorian had grown increasingly tired of being treated as a _thing_.  At first a fearful _thing_ and now a _thing_ for this child to drag around like some damned trophy?  No, that won’t do at all.

“Then permit me to say my good byes to the dear Inquisitor, I feel that I have been separated from him for far too long.”  Without waiting for permission he brushed past the ego inflated soldier to stride up to the Inquisitor.

He snared him into a loving embrace, complete with shameless making out.  Mahanon was surprised but didn’t resist as Dorian plundered his mouth.  Dorian made more noises than usual, soon finding it amusing to be as obscene as possible. 

“Um…maybe we should, um…”  Baby Doll’s confidence was fading rapidly which only encouraged Dorian and Mahanon to continue with enthusiasm. 

Dorian felt Mahanon shake in silent laughter at Baby Doll’s awkwardness at their display of affection.  He thanked the Maker that his lover had picked up on his ruse, though he had not thought of the full implications up to that point.

“Oh Dorian.  I have missed you so much, I can’t wait.  Take me now.”  Mahanon waved his in a mockery of what he’d seen Orlesians do.  It was overly dramatic and downright amusing, making it difficult for Dorian to keep a straight face.  “You ladies don’t mind us, please, do finish your reports.”

Leliana glided right into one of her reports without missing a beat.  “The reports coming from the Hissing Wastes…”

The skilled rogue attacked Dorian’s buckles with heated purpose.  His belt was the first casualty.  It crashed to the ground with a heavy thud and Dorian winced at the sound, hoping nothing had broken.

“…the scouts in the area have reported decreased Venatori activity, however…”

Their kisses were bruising and relentless.  How far would they have to go? 

“…There have been some sightings…”

Soon, Mahanon switched to have his chin rest on Dorian’s shoulder.  Dorian’s breaths came in stilted hiccups as the man licked and sucked on the shell of his ear. 

“…of course we have only been in touch with…”

Mahanon bucked his hips against Dorian and giggled with triumph when he peeled Dorian’s torso free of his clothing.

“...and then there was some minor fuss with the local lords over…”

Dorian arched his back and let out a pleasured cry when Mahanon splayed his hands over Dorian’s chest and took a nipple in his mouth to suck fervently. 

“I REALLY WOULD LIKE A TOUR OF THE CASTLE RIGHT NOW.”  Baby Doll raised his voice desperately seeking an escape.  Mahanon continued as though nothing had happened, leaving the details up to the ladies. 

“Are you sure?”  Josephine’s prim manner did not betray how odd the scene playing out in her office actually was.  Dorian was certain the man would believe that this sort of thing happened frequently.  Dorian laughed whimsically.  _If only…_

“Yes!  I-yes-can we…”  His voice receded from the room until Dorian heard the distinct thud of Baby Doll backing into the door.

Josephine gracefully crossed the room to usher the man out and pass along instructions to the guards.  “…and should you have need of Dorian, he will be in the Inquisitor’s quarters.”

When the door shut, Dorian was a bit sad when Mahanon ceased ravishing him.  His lusty thoughts were quickly dismissed when his lover wrapped his arms around him tight to bury his face in the crook of his neck.  He’d forgotten what led them to this point.  There was one deep shuddering breath from Mahanon and Dorian returned the hug fiercely for reassurance.  “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

The advisors were overly considerate to completely ignore the scandalous display as well as waiting before pouring into a litany of questions that Dorian knew had to be on the tip of their tongues.  As Mahanon drew himself back, Dorian cupped his face and stared deeply into the elf’s emerald eyes.  So beautiful, so perfect.  A sparkle of innocence still hid in there, the young man who never dreamed of being the savior of the world.  These were the moments that reminded Dorian that the Inquisitor was still a man with a beating heart who felt and bled just as much as anyone, if not more.  Dorian’s heart could burst with the desire to protect him.    

“There you see?”  He tenderly caressed Mahanon’s cheek with his thumb.  “A bit famished for a decent meal and wine, but still resplendent nonetheless.”

Scout Harding cleared her throat, “Excuse me, Lord Pavus.  May I ask how the Chargers are faring through all this?”

“My apologies.  I am pleased to report that your paramour, as well as the rest of the Chargers are doing well, they are all safe, especially now that Praxis is up and about.”

“So.  Her people have come.”  Leliana’s serious tone sliced through the conversation and drew all eyes to her.  “Do you know what we can expect?  Is she still loyal to the Inquisition?”

All attention fell on Dorian and he felt backed into a corner.  “I believe so.  She negotiated a way for Dalish and I to come back to the castle.”

“What of these people of hers?”

“The only one I know is Rothstein.  He’s new to command, as anyone with eyes can see.  He was going through the gauntlet of training when we last met.  He seemed to be the impulsive type, eager to have things done _his_ way.  Praxis was his instructor, she’ll know him better than I.”

Leliana nodded thoughtfully to herself.  Dorian remained puzzled as to what machinations the spymaster was up to. 

“His instructor?  Wouldn’t that make her the ranking person?  Then she can take control of that unit, yes?”  Josephine sounded hopeful. 

“She says it’s not that simple, however, many of those soldiers know her.  She may simply be acting prudently.  I think that it would be wise to allow her some time.  Prior to arriving here, I planted the idea of a mutiny.  Perhaps it’ll take hold.” 

Mahanon rubbed at his tired eyes.  “I hope you’re right.  This entire evening with Rothstein was…uncomfortable.  It was a miracle we were able to keep Cullen’s whereabouts hidden from him.  I don’t think we’ll have that luxury tomorrow.” 

“Exactly!  Tomorrow.  Not tonight.”  Taking Mahanon by the hand, Dorian guided him toward the door.  “I seem to recall you starting something that I would like to see come to a conclusion.  Imagine the scandal should word leak out that you never finish what you start.”

“Ladies?”  Of course the infuriating man would ensure all work was done before having any fun.  Thankfully they gave knowing nods, acknowledging that there was little to be gained talking in circles. 

They needed Praxis and she was busy.  Hopefully she was busy.  Whether it was mending old friendships or building new ones.  He didn’t care, it just needed to work.  She’d gotten him back to the castle, she calmed tempers, she defended Bull – judgements be damned – and that’s all that mattered to him. 

Dorian wondered what that felt like, flaunting an abhorrent relationship in faces of others.  The long trek up the endless flight of stairs to the Inquisitor’s quarters gave him plenty of time to think on it.  Could he do the same?  Stand before his countrymen and profess his love?  Threaten violence to any who would dare mock them?  Well, that last bit might actually prove to be fun.  He would easily eliminate most of the less savory Magisters after the first round of scathing remarks. 

He took his time with the last steps into their shared quarters.  He watched Mahanon shed the restrictive clothing that Josephine chose for him each day, like a flower that bloomed at the sun’s first warm kiss of the morning.  Naked and shaking his hair free of its braid, he glanced at Dorian. 

“You look distracted.”

“A handsome man prancing about for my amusement.  I should hope I would be.”  He tried to lift a mask to hide his thoughts but Mahanon had been too quick.

The Inquisitor closed the distance between them with concerned eyes.  “Dorian, please.”

“You shouldn’t do that you know.  Batting those lovely eyes to manipulate people may get you into trouble someday.”

Cupping Dorian’s jaw, he placed a soft kiss on the man’s lips.  For Dorian’s entire life he had believed that fevered, rushed kissing would be the only thing that aroused him.  Never had he dreamed that such an affectionate little peck would make his mind swim and his soul tremble. 

“Vhenan.  Tell me your worries.  I hate seeing you upset.”

“Worries?  What’s there to worry about?  The sky cracking open?  Ancient Magisters running amuck?  No, no.”  Walking forward, Dorian caused Mahanon to back into the bed, falling softly on the blankets with an amused grin on his face.  “Such things are but routine to the great and mighty Herald.  Ah!  But the quiet musings of his lover, now there is a challenge worthy of his skill and talents.”  Mahanon sat up on the edge to snag hold of Dorian’s thighs and drew him in closer.  “What sort of tortuous interrogation method do you have selected for me?  I will give you adequate warning, I am extraordinarily stubborn.”

“Thankfully I am extraordinarily patient.”  Using both hands, he framed Dorian’s waist.  “Come.”  Mahanon guided Dorian to lay with him.

“Oh, I plan to.”

Mahanon crawled on knees to rest between Dorian’s legs.  He ran his hands the toned muscles, lingering on his thighs.  “Ass.”

Relaxing his head further into the bedding, Dorian smirked.  “Yes, I’d enjoy some of that too.”

The weight of the day fell from him the second Mahanon removed his boots, his feet bobbing upward in their absence.  Kneeling by the bed, the Inquisitor did the most un-Inquisitor like thing and massaged Dorian’s feet.  He pressed on the toes, dipping his fingers in between.  Using his thumb and the palm of his hand, he worked the tendons stretching over the arch of the foot.  Dorian felt it through his entire body was like taut lute stings that were suddenly cut, the tension from the day was ripped from his muscles, allowing them to finally find some peace. 

There was guilt.  There was definitely pleasure.  Yet, the overwhelming feeling that washed through Dorian was love.  Real love.  A magical thing that had seemed so foreign, so out of reach for him for his entire life that no amount of guilt would budge him from where he was. 

A succession of tugs and jerks saw his breeches crumpled to the floor.  Mahanon’s nimble fingers went up Dorian’s legs, pressing, rolling over knots and working them loose.  Dorian’s nerves began to float, his mind lost to the gentle attention his lover bestowed.  Lover, love…

“Vhenan?  Did you say something?”

Dorian bolted upright, shocked he’d said his thoughts aloud.  He cupped Mahanon’s face with both hands and ravished his mouth.  He alternated between nipping at those perfect, thin lips and swiping his tongue over them.  A rush of heat billowed within his chest.  Not lust, though that did factor into it, but desire.  A desire that went beyond a one night stand, a port in a storm.  He hungered for more.  He hungered to wake next to this man each morning, hungered to hear his voice each day. 

When he finally permitted a moment, he spoke softly as their rushed breaths collided in the small space between them.  “I love you.”

Mahanon pressed his forehead against Dorian’s, “I wasn’t sure that was what I heard.  Have I finally fucked some sense into you?” His tone held a timbre of surprised relief, despite his teasing.

“I fear you have ruined me.”  Dorian let out a small trill of laughter.  “And all this time everyone was worried the dreaded Tevinter would corrupt their beloved…” He began to pepper kisses along Mahanon’s jaw, “most holy…” trickling down his neck as the elf arched his head upward.  “unquestionably pure,” his tongue lapped at the delicate skin.  “Herald of Andraste.”

He licked a long trial along the collarbone, immensely satisfied with the shuttering hiss it drew from his lover.  He’d always prided himself on being excellent in bed.  Little did he ever imagine that he would find pleasure in having sex _with_ someone. 

Previously, all he’d ever known was: Here’s what you need, here’s what I need and now we part our ways.

Never again.  Mahanon surged forward, his body pressing Dorian into the sheets.  Hands placing his wrists above his head.  Their hips rocked together deliciously as Mahanon bucked with each rough, wet kiss.  His long hair trapped their heated breaths to swirl around them, warming their skin.  Dorian traced Mahanon’s cheek with his thumb only to watch the man capture it with his mouth and suck on it with a sly smirk.  Being _with_ him was incredible.  Being _in love with_ him was euphoric.  No matter how they played, teased, or ravished one another, they were both of the same mind.

_Come with me and be loved._

Mahnon’s laughter broke Dorian’s musings.  The elf swept his hair to one side, picking out the few stubborn strands that clung to Dorian’s face.  “Pure?  How little they know me.”  His hips surged and he dipped in for another searing kiss then lowered his head further to have his lips tease Dorian’s ear.  “I’ve done nothing but think of you all day, all night.”

“Oh?”  The question prompted Dorian’s hand to be guided to Mahanon’s rear where Dorian’s fingers landed on an all too familiar toy.  “ _Oh – “_

Mahanon alighted from the bed, eager to move to the next stage.  Meanwhile Dorian lay chuckling to himself over the idea of the Inquisitor walking about Skyhold, speaking to nobles and even the Advisors, all the while with a butt plug firmly lodged within him.  Mahanon returned to his side, laying on the bed and gave Dorian a few, slick strokes before nudging his back closer.

“Let’s go you fucking Shem.  Prove to me you’re not all talk.”

“Yes, Master Amatus.”  Although he knew that Mahanon had done more prep than they usually were afforded, Dorian was still gentle as he wedged himself in.  Partly to be sure there was no discomfort, mostly to savor the moment.  The thick cry from Mahanon went straight to Dorian’s balls, demanding he take more and take it fast. 

In an effort to keep his pace in check, Dorian propped himself up, twisted, then roughly bit Mahanon’s pec.  Reciprocating the sucking he’d enjoyed earlier.  A whole mouthful of skin and he tugged, letting his tongue flick over the pert nipple. 

“ _Yes, like that my dirty pet.”_  

Dorian loved when Mahanon got swept up in their lovemaking.  His elvhen accent became more pronounced and his tenor dropped.  Dorian thrust hard as he pushed Mahanon face down into the bed.  The second Mahanon turned his head for air, Dorian’s mouth assailed the man’s elegantly long ear.  He suckled on the lobe then with the barest touch of the tip of this tongue, he traced the edge all the way to the tip.  It twitched beneath his loving attentions, needy for more, begging for more.

It was Dorian’s turn to hold the man down by the wrists as the intimate action drove the man to reflexively squirm full force.  Feeling Mahanon lose control of his body was immensely satisfying.  His hips naturally pounded into the man harder.  Mahanon retaliated by squeezing on Dorian’s cock, tightening his hole perfectly to have Dorian reeling. 

“You like fucking my ass Shemlen?  You like sticking me?  Do it, you filthy fuck, make me.  Make me take it.”

Mahanon’s demands came in a deep growl that cast a spell over Dorian.  The world became a blur.  They spilled onto the floor.  Breathless.  Heated sweat made their bodies shimmer in the firelight.

“Give it to me.  Harder!  I want to feel you in the back of my throat.”

“Yes, Amatus.”

Then he was pressing the Inquisitor against the wall.  His hands firmly gripping his muscled ass, enjoying the way it moved in his palms as he pounded the man into tapestry.  The rings jingled in protest over their heads as their sex became more fevered.  Mahanon held their heads close, his pleasured exhales a constant stream of erotic smut. 

_Bite me like I’m your last meal._

_You make me so horny, more, more…_

_I’m going to ruin your pretty face with all my cum._

_Fehendis!  My ass loves your cock.  You feel how much it wants to suck on it?_

Dorian had to use his whole body to keep going, his legs were weak, his lungs struggling to keep up with his racing heart.  He found himself slamming Mahanon’s whole body against the wall as he chased his pending orgasm.

Mahanon gripped Dorian’s hair in a punishing hold, “Fucking bust in me.  Do what I need you whore of a pet.”

The pain cost him only a few seconds.  Soon there was the unmistakable tug at his stomach as his entire body seized up and he found glorious release.  His eyes rolled back.  Tremors shook him to the core.  Amazing.  The word fell drastically short of the true soul shattering experience, yet it was the only word Dorian could think of in his daze. 

He helped Mahanon ease back to the floor.  “Keep going.  I’m not done with you yet.” 

The next thing Dorian registered was he lay on the bed, Mahanon straddled over him. 

“I love how you can stay hard after.  It’s so sexy.”  It was once again easy for Dorian to glide into Mahanon’s welcoming body.  The elf sat on top of him and rocked a bit.  “Creators, you’re sexy.”

He ran a hand over Dorian’s stomach and up over his chest.  An appreciative smile grew when his fingers grazed over the chest hair.  Thankfully, he found the non-elf trait to be exceedingly exotic.

“Come on, make me cum.”  Mahanon adjusted his stance to have his feet planted and his hands braced on Dorian’s bent knees.  Using both arms and legs, he rode Dorian’s cock in full length, the squats taking the man from tip to base.

A deep moan fell from the mighty Inquisitor as Dorian took him in hand, skillfully pumping the man the last bit.  “Use me Amatus.  Take what you want from me, wreck me, ruin me.  I’m yours.”

The rhythm increased, but Dorian held steady with his pace.  He could see the torture play out on the other man’s face.  He kept his lover just shy of what he craved. 

“My powerful, pure master.  Fuck me up.  Rub hot cum all over my body.”

It was Dorian’s first attempt at the raunchy language Mahanon preferred, and it certainly did the trick.  Warm thick shots fall over his chest and face.  Having no experience in aiming from this position, Dorian didn’t bother to try.  It went everywhere, much to Mahanaon’s pleasure.

The Inquisitor took care when he eased off Dorian and the bed.  In moments a warm, wet towel was sopping up the stickiness from Dorian’s body. 

“Up with you, I made a mess of the sheet.”  Mahanon’s voice was quiet, normal.  Firm but coated with gentle affection.

Dorian rolled enough to allow Mahanon to remove the offending bedding.  “I don’t deserve you.”

Mahanon tossed the sheet by the stairs.  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”  He curled up next to Dorian, resting his head in the crook of his shoulder. 

“Astonishing how great minds think alike.”

The energy from early was fading fast into the night.  Both men felt the weight of exhaustion and began to drift off to sleep.

“Ar lath ma vhenan.”  The phrase was followed by a contented sigh, then Mahanon fell fast asleep.

“I love you too, Amatus.”  Dorian wanted to say it over and over, but feared disturbing the man’s rest.  Instead he placed light kisses in his hair, whispering the phrase into his soft locks, like a spell that would always be there to remind him that he was beloved. 

***

Leliana sat at her desk and watched the color of the reports change as the sun began to peek over the mountains.  She hadn’t slept.  Reports came in throughout the night.  Tensions between the soldiers and the Chargers had eased.  The two soldiers were joined by the one called Baby Doll and discussed their data collecting, the details of which she’d already poured over.  Then there was Rothstein.  As if reading her mind, the agent in question crested the last step up to her office. 

“A report for you Lady Nightingale.”  The woman’s hair was damp from a recent bath and her clothing plain.  A drastic change from the elegant Orlesian gowns she wore for her assignment.  “Pasclina has gotten to Rothstein.  She has manipulated him into an agreement.  She wants Praxis and Bull either permanently removed from the Inquisition or killed.” 

“What leverage is she using?”

“Sex.”

Leliana scoffed.  A weak mind indeed. 

“Should I inform the Praxis or The Iron Bull?”

“No.  Although Praxis may not be loyal to Rothstein, she may still have the same ambitions which means she’d share his goals.  I believe that we shall keep this information for later.  Until then, we’ll use Praxis to control him and if she does indeed pose a threat to the Inquisition, then Rothstein will take care of her.”

“And the Iron Bull?” 

The measure of Leliana’s regret was but a faint sigh.  “Collateral damage.  Is there anything else?”

If the agent was surprised at her readiness to sacrifice a member of the inner circle, she did a good job of hiding it.  “None.”

“Dismissed.  Keep me apprised of all liaisons between the two…or should I say three of you?”

The agent responded with a smirk, then a quick salute before descending the stairs.  Loosing Bull would be unfortunate, sharp mind and his battle sense was invaluable when on missions with the Inquisitor.  Praxis would be a partial loss.  Her backup plan they implemented when she had been kidnapped would still work if she were suddenly gone.  Could be less trouble, could be more.  This long into it and she was still wild card.  Leliana made a few more notes and outlined new contingency plans for this new development.  Regardless of her thoughts on Praxis, the immediate threat was Rothstein. 


	6. My Tal-Vashoth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Praxis becomes defensive of Bull and Leliana gets reports from the field that will change everyone's plans.

Mahanon woke when he heard the first bell of the day.  A habit he developed since arriving at Skyhold. Sliding out of bed, he threw on a robe before walking out on the balcony.  The stone beneath his feet remained warm to the touch, an enchantment that Dorian gifted him.

The suns aura glowed behind the mountain range.  It was beautiful, but it was no substitute for the forests he'd grown up in.  These mountains reminded him of being trapped.  He raises his left hand to watch the swirling green of the mark.

"Enclosed, tight, restrictive.  So many rules.  So many innocents.  So many deaths.  He makes you forget."

"Good morning Cole."  Mahanon leaned on the baulstrade next to where Cole sat on the ledge.

"With him you are calm, not as blinding.  You feel free.  Even free from your clan."

Mahanon blew a sigh out into the chilly morning.  He didn't have to confirm it.  Cole knew.  The Dalish considered themselves a dying race.  It was expected that all pairings would result in children.  He cringed at the thought of being with a woman.  Bondings should be mutual passion, love.  He glanced back at the man who lay slumbering in their bed, one arm dangling lazily over the side.  His heart never knew love until he met Dorian.

"Thoughts for another day Cole.  I hope there is some other reason you’re perched up here."

"I can hear the music better."  Cole returned his attention to beyond the battlements.  His legs swung to a tune that only he could hear.  “It echoes in the valley, bright, vibrant, it brings happiness.  Helps them chase it like an elusive nug.  I like nugs.”

With a relaxed grin, Mahanon smirked at the mental image, “I like the idea of a nug-of-happiness.”  He looked back over his shoulder and laughed aloud at his own sleeping ‘nug-of-happiness’ boyfriend.

“Late.” Cole said, his clipped tone now colder than the biting air.

Instinctively, Mahanon looked down to the courtyard.  There, he saw the distinctive clothing of three of Praxis’ soldiers sprinting for the gates.  He quirked a brow then sought out the balcony where Josephine would have housed the Captain.  Out in the chill, Rothstein only wore short pants.  Bare chested, his face showed no displeasure at the freezing temperature.  All of the vehemence was focused on the troops running out the gate.  Mahanon could have sworn he developed a foul taste in his mouth by simply by looking at the man.

Cole stopped swinging his feet.  “Late.  She will not embarrass me again.”

***

Praxis woke before the first bells.  She was pressed against a large warm body and with one sharp inhale her senses were inundated with the smell of The Bull.  Body odor, leather, the faint smoky ash scent of horn balm, and strong whiffs of elfroot.  Her entire body was sore and if she hadn’t known any better should would have assumed they’d simply had a rough, but pleasurable night.  Yet, the jagged rocks beneath her bedroll that they had missed begged to differ.

If only things were that simple.  Carefully righting herself, she attached her feet with as little noise as she could manage.  Before leaving the small area The Bull had sectioned off for them, she sat on her knees beside him.  His hands lay folded on his chest, his breaths were slow and steady.  She kissed the top of his hand.  His bicep.  The shoulder.  Finally, the lightest of kisses on his cheek as she fought the urge to crush their faces together and relish the prickling of his stubble.  Funny how that had bothered her at first, but now she couldn’t bear the thought of him without it.

The Bull stirred under her touch.  He inhaled deeply then a smile lazily creeped over his face.  “Good morning Kadan.”

“Hello, gorgeous.” She purred as she rubbed her face against his cheek.  Yes, his stubble was perfection.

A new voice crushed the moment.  “Hey, Praxis.  You wanna do your medical stuff now or later when the captain gets back?”  Tran stood on the other side of the sheet The Bull had strung up. 

She groaned then buried her head in The Bull’s shoulder.  He wrapped a sympathetic arm around her, the heat of his body was intoxicating.  She wanted to melt and stay in bed with him for the rest of the day.  However, she did want to do her exam before the captain returned.  Nosey bastard wasn’t a professional in any sense of the word.

She kissed The Bull on the nose, “Throw some pants on, hot stuff.”

Praxis carelessly wrapped a blanket over herself and invited the medic in.  At first, he made to ask Praxis a question, then reconsidered and asked it of The Bull instead.  “Why are you still here?”

His redirect was obvious and he did little to hide the hint of disdain in his tone.  It was still rude, but at least he was trying to treat The Bull as if he were a person.  Praxis could only vaguely remember having the same mindset when she first arrived in Thedas.  Shit, she’d almost shot him based solely on his looks.  He’d become such a significant part of her life that it was difficult to have patience with Tran’s prejudices. 

“She’s still a member of the Inquisition and I will ensure her safety.”  The Bull’s voice was an octave deeper, a small growl rumbled in the back of his throat. 

Praxis bit her finger to keep herself from jumping his bones.  The Bull caught her stare and smiled back knowingly.  That didn’t help things either.  What did, was the ice cold touch of fingers feeling up her lymph nodes. 

“Fine.”  Tran was not one to waste time and this fight wasn’t worth it.  Always one for multitasking, Tran felt her around her neck while issuing instructions.  “Take the bracelet off and sit up straight.  After this initial sync, it should work wirelessly.”

He plugged the bracelet into his computer to download her vitals from the past twenty-four hours.  He then spilled into the list of standard questions.  Notes were only taken when she had to clarify which injuries came from performing duties and which came her time being a prisoner.  Ever the professional, he didn’t ask ‘why’, only ‘what’ and ‘how’ in regards to the injury and treatment.

When he looked at her back, she laughed it off as ‘kinky sex shit’.

Asking about her leg, she smirked and chalked it up as ‘poor torture techniques’. 

Tran unexpectedly reached for her hands.  He turned them over and traced a few of the jagged white lines that crisscrossed over the palms holding together the old burnt flesh.  “And your hands?” 

She sobered instantly.  She hadn’t given them much thought since the night they’d returned from Orzammar.  The cravings were suddenly fresh and new in the back of her mind, on the tip of her tongue even.  Only this time, she felt an uneasiness in her stomach.

_I don’t want it._

“I…”  The acidic queasiness bubbled up her throat and into her mouth.  It didn’t make sense.  Why was she ashamed?  “I’ve been clean since I got here.”

Tran cocked his head with interest.  He ceased taking notes.  “So you were taking something before?”

“Yes.”  There was no reason to lie, Tran had always known about her addiction and been the first to actually listen to her instead of jumping her shit about it. 

Tran set his notepad down.  “Then what’s this?  Are you self harming?”

“I did but not the way you think.  It was Cullen’s morphine.”  Instinctively she wet her lips in anticipation of a dose that would never come.  She hated herself for it.  Blowing out a weighted sigh, she dropped her gaze to the floor.  “I didn’t want to be able to open the bottles.  So, I cut my hands open.”

Tran remained neutral.  Calm.  His voice was even.  There was no admonishment or pity which kept her guilt ridden shyness at bay.  “What happened to the pills?”

“C-Cullen…Cullen poured them out for me.  I had them dissolving in my hands…and…I just…couldn’t take it.  I threw them in the fire.”

Tran gently lowered her hands to her lap.  “And then you reached in the fire to get them back once buyer’s remorse set in.”

A nod and she felt shame once more.  That overpowering weakness that bored into her soul felt like a thousand screws.  Entering one side and popping out the other.  It made her stomach fall flat, drying out her mouth.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I did.”  Each word physically hurt to say.  They were just words.  Just intensely painful reminders.  Echoes of a nightmare life.

“Praxis.”  Tran leaned forward to pull her into a hug. 

She gasped, choking out the urge to sob on his shoulder.  “You fucker.  You’re going to make me look like a pussy in front of The Bull.”

Despite her admonishment, Tran didn’t let go, never letting up.  She squeezed him tighter.  There was no word, no sentence to convey how she felt for that brief moment.  Tran had known for years about her struggles.  He even knew about her father.  To have this affirmation…it meant everything. 

She pushed him off and wiped at her eyes as he teased her, “Someone needs to take your smug ass down a peg.”  He turned his head to keep from looking at her, giving her some privacy to pull herself together.  The sweet bastard tried to save her some dignity at least.

A ding went off on Tran’s tablet.  While he scanned through the laundry list of data, Praxis donned the borrowed clothes from yesterday.  She tapped The Bull’s leg and pointed to the tablet.  “That bracelet I was wearing all day took note of everything that my body has been doing.  How much oxygen I breathe, how well my heart’s beating, stuff like that.  If anything serious had happened to me, an alarm would have gone off to alert Tran that I needed attention.  It’s a pretty handy device.”

The Bull nodded thoughtfully, taking it all in.  He adjusted his posture to look over Tran’s head.  “Then those charts, they compare what happened yesterday to previous dates?”

Tran laid the tablet against his chest, hiding the screen.  “Praxis, do you consent to me sharing your medical information with him?”

 _Him, not it._   She smiled at the small victory. 

“Yes.  It’s fine, just finish up, hmm?”  So long as Tran didn’t put her on bed rest she didn’t care what the charts said.  She gathered the rest of her clothes and dressed while the boys ogled the spreadsheets.  She clutched her stomach as it rumbled.  The Bull had starting asking more questions and Tran was all too happy to share his knowledge with someone who had genuine interest.  She left them to it and ducked through the flap to enter the main tent area. 

Everyone else was slowly waking as well.  Conversations were held in lowered voices for those last few who still slept, most of them Chargers.  Shady sat with T-Rex at his feet, headphones in and bobbing his head to music only he could hear.  The act wasn’t all that significant to Praxis in the least, until she noticed how the Chargers were watching him. 

“Shit.”  Using her fingers, she whistled sharply.  All of her old crew converged to ring around her, the new guys merely followed the crowd with confused expressions.  “Alright guys there needs to be some consideration given for culture while you’re here.  First, demons are real.  They are as real as fuck.  They work like Freddy Krueger and then puppet master your ass in the waking world to have you do their bidding.  Headphones are a no-go while you’re here.  The concept of voices others can hear, really bothers folks here.”

“Whoa!  Whoa!  Are you shitting me?”  Biscuit crossed his arms as narrowed is eyes on Praxis.  “You say this after we’ve all fallen asleep?”

“Did anyone have any dreams last night?”  There wasn’t a need to ask, but she waited for the negative replies before spilling into her white lie.  “If any of you start to have dreams, let me know.  There are ways for us to counter it.  But for the love of God, don’t joke about demons or hearing voices or any of that shit.”

Z flicked her newly braided hair over her shoulder, “Aight, tracking.  Anything else?”

“You’ll be happy to know that the ale is as strong as liquor and the liquor is as strong as Monty’s thighs.”  This news earned a few happy grins and high-fives.

Doc turned his wrist up, then tapped his watch.  A few rolled their eyes at the silent announcement, the rest darted theirs to tent entrance.  As if on cue, Baby Doll and the two Civil Affairs soldiers popped in, all out of breath.  The Captain hadn’t returned with them. 

Brushing past Praxis, Doc shot her a subtle grin.  “Alright you assholes, let’s get moving!”

Praxis went with the flow of the group out of the tent.  Baby Doll was, of course, the one to comment on the captain’s absence.  “Aren’t we going to wait?”

Doc sought out a large enough clearing for the group to form up.  “You know the rules.  Cap’n says zero-six, then zero-six it is.  Every morning.  Ma’am, you joining us?  You can line up there next to Z.”

It was odd to be part of the formation.  From the corner of her eye, she was happy to see that even under a new commander, the group was still as relaxed as they’d always been.  Z arched her back.  Biscuit yawned as he scratched at his chest.  While everyone prepped themselves for the gauntlet, the Chargers lined up to watch.  Some with weapons, but none taking up an offensive stance. 

“Hey ma’am?  You said no headphones, but what about regular speakers?”  Sammy leaned backward to see beyond Risky in the line, ensuring Praxis heard her.

A thousand reasons popped into Praxis’ head waving giant red flags telling her this was a bad idea.  There were at least a hundred ways this would end poorly.  Blasting music would definitely cause problems.

She stared back at Sammy and saw that some were casting pleading looks at her as well.

_Meh, fuck it._

“Sure.  Knock yourself out.”  Her chest tightened, knowing she was going to get in trouble from this decision.  Someone was going to yell at her.  Yet, that pang faded rather quickly when she saw how happy it made her guys. 

Sammy ran off to set up one of the trucks, leaving the door open for the sound to escape the reinforced steel.  Praxis’ gaze honed in on the Chargers.  The moment the music began to play, she first laughed to herself at the song.

 _I got bills I gotta pay_  
So I'm gon' work, work, work every day  
I got mouths I gotta feed,  
So I'm gon' make sure everybody eats  
I got bills!

The stunned expressions from the Chargers was priceless.  The music was upbeat, with multiple instruments and even synthesized sounds her ears desperately missed.  Yes, this was certainly _nothing_ like anything they’d heard before.  There were only a few seconds to enjoy their bemused faces before Doc began calling out the exercises. 

The first round of exercises were chosen to be simple, short sets.  They eventually progressed in difficulty and dexterity.  Each round lasted as long as a song.  The playlist was all over the place.  New and old were mixed along with hip-hop and reggae.  Everyone moved together, the tempo of the exercise kept in sync with the bass.  She’d forgotten how music affected her body.  It put a  hum in her chest and the lyrics burst like fireworks in her mind.  An energy and enthusiasm she hadn’t felt in months clawed it’s way out of her dim shell, like a snake ripping free of its dead skin.  She felt reborn and invigorated. 

It reminded her of being with The Bull. 

She lasted forty-five minutes before she was incapable of breathing.  She stumbled off to the side where Tran rushed to her side.  It felt as if she were out of breath and trying to catch up using a straw.

"Can't...breathe..."

He dug through his bag for his tablet.  By the time he had it up and running, Stitches and The Bull joined them.  The Chargers’ healer began feeling her up methodically.  Tran repeated that she couldn't breathe as he poured his focus into scouring the data exchange with her med bracelet.

"Is it a chest tightness or do you feel that your breaths are too short?"  He pressed his ear to her chest as she answered.

"Short."

It was his turn to dig through a bag.  He pulled out a vile and small sack of dried herbs.  Taking her hands to form a small bowl, he poured the liquid into her palms them crushed the dried plant over them.

"Pulmonary effusion." Tran stated. 

"She ‘as water in her lung cavity, if that’s what you are trying to say.”  Stitches guided Praxis’ cupped hands to just beneath her nose.  “Breathe this in.  It’ll feel scratchy at first, but you’ll adjust as it dries everythin’ out.  You should be alright in an hour or so.”

Tran’s jaw fell open.  “How much do you know about that mixture you just made?” 

“Can tell ya ‘bout the plant ‘in all.  Ain’t too hard to explain.”

“Show me.  Tell me everything.  Even our best compound couldn’t do that in less than a week.”

The two healers wondered off, Tran hanging off every word that Stitches said. 

“Sit with me.”  At Praxis’ invite, The Bull sat down behind her and she leaned into him as she continued with Stitches’ treatment. 

“So you listen to the same music each morning for rounds?”  The Bull spoke low in her ear as his hands reached around to massage her knees and thighs. 

“No, it gets changed up all the time.  Everyone has different preferences.  Doc and I tend to favor the older music while the newer guys favor the newest, freshest thing to be found.  I swear their attention span can barely be measured in nanoseconds.  Most folks have playlists that can go for hours…I think mine was at….twenty seven hours?  I dunno, a good long time.”

The Bull whistled a surprised breath.  “And you can listen to it any time you wish?  Huh.”  He shook his head as if to cast off an unsavory idea.  “Fucking strange to hear voices and not have a face to put with it.”

The Chargers and Varric joined them, standing at first, but slouching to the ground when it became evident there was no slowing down for the exercising soldiers.

“Is this all it is?  Your training I mean.”  With a shrug, Krem gestured to the group.  He still stood, but he leaned heavily against a tree.  “Aren’t there any tactics?  Weapon proficiency?  I’ve seen dancing routines that were more menacing.” 

Praxis laughed so hard The Bull had to help keep her hands steady before the potion spilled through her fingers.  “Yes, they do those too, but not every day.  It was about once a month or less depending on what was on the agenda for the next few months.”

“And you call yourselves professional soldiers?”  Rocky scoffed.  “Bunch of lazy nug humpers.  What do you do all day if not training?”

With a chuckle Praxis smiled, “Schooling mostly.  Everyone here knows two languages, some are working on masters degrees, some are studying for the next rank and then there are the culture and country immersive classes.  If we’re sent to another country, we’re required to have a certain number of hours to saturate us in the customs and courtesies of the host country’s culture.”

Exasperated, Skinner fell backward in the snow.  “That sounds miserable!  How can there be that much to learn for it to fill an entire month?” 

“Well sometimes it’s more than that.  In Thedas how many countries are there?  Nine? There are around 190 countries and thousands of languages where they’re from.  Learning from historical mistakes, it’s been deemed necessary to gain some base level knowledge about a place.”

“Thousands?”  The Bull said it more to himself than as an actual question. 

“How can there be so many?  Does each person have their own language?”  asked Varric as he rushed to have his quill keep pace with the conversation.

“There are a lot of people.  Take the entire population of Thedas, right?  Using the estimates from Josephine, I can place the population of my home world at 400 times that of Thedas, maybe even more.”

Skinner sat up.  “Bullshit.  That’s impossible.  Where do they all live?  How do you feed that many?”

“Easy Skinner.  Keep in mind that back there, the world is a larger place.  Some areas are as packed as Val Royeaux and others as sparse as the Hinterlands.”

“Is it a requirement that if you’re in the military you’re all fucked up?”  Krem’s deadpan tone redirected the conversation back to the group of soldiers.

The session had passed the hour mark and many of them were heated and sweaty.  Male and female alike tossed off their shirts and dressed down to shorts.  The newbies were easy to pick out of the crowd now.  None of them had tattoos.  None of them had scars to blemish their virgin skin. 

Out in the open like this, the veterans’ hardships were easier to spot.  Aside from the matching memoriam skulls tattoos, Risky had a fake leg, Doc had a robotic forearm and hand, Z had metal pins and rods in her spine.  All of the major injuries were from the ambush.  _That_ ambush.  Seeing her patched up unit made her legs ache at the brutal reminder. 

“Sometimes creativity is a bad thing.  There are a lot of bad people out there who get really inventive in the ways to hurt others.” 

“And some of those bad people can be found right here.  Good morning _Sunset_.”  Rothstein strolled up to the group with a mug of warm liquid in one hand and a fresh roll stuffed with bacon and eggs in the other. 

Praxis buried her face closer to her hands, feigning a deep inhale of her medication to hide her anger.  “Morning.  _Captain_.”  She applied a similar bite to his rank as he had given her first name.  Any illusions of this being an amicable relationship flew out the window right then and there. 

“I have noticed that many of these men have served with you before.  Were you aware how many of them have been arrested?”

_Oh just great.  Brilliant.  Talking shit about your own team in front of strangers.  Dumbass._

She thought she’d receive a nosebleed from her pent up frustration with this kid.  Acknowledging that a battle of wills was about to break out, she rose to at least meet him eye to eye.  The tension between them vibrated amongst the group, urging everyone to stand. 

At seeing the commander arrive, Doc ended the session early.  Everyone congregated to her location.  “Good morning captain.  I see that Trusdoll informed you that the major is awake and doing well.”

Rothstein eyed the medic skeptically, but said nothing about it.  “According to the statements that I received from Mr. Pavus it appears that Sunset Praxis arrived here of her own free will.  In that instance, I am authorized to place you under house arrest.  Your rank has been temporarily suspended until you are cleared by a courts martial.” 

She only nodded in response, there was no call for a debate at this time.  Unlike Rothstein, she understood there was a time and place for everything.  Praise in public, discipline in private. 

“Captain, we just finished our warm up.  Will you be joining us for the second half?  I was thinking about a seven mile run.”  Doc offered a change in topic, steering away from the dangerous one of allegations that had already set the Chargers and some of his own men fuming.

Leisurely, Rothstein took a bite of his breakfast roll, pretending to consult with a mental schedule.  “I do not believe that I have time.  I was invited by the Inquisitor to attend one of his War Table meetings.  That is when he’s going to inform me of Cullen’s current location and how we can reach him.” 

“Understood captain. By your leave captain, I’ll take it from here.”  Doc saluted smartly, but with his hands full, all Rothstein could do was nod in return before trekking back to the castle.

Z whispered to avoid being overheard by the retreating commander.  “How much you wanna bet there is no meeting?”

“Watch it Z.  We don’t talk about the captain, alright?” Doc corrected her.

“Fine.  Got it.  But, you’re not really going to make us run are you?”

“Oh fuck no.  I said I was thinking about it.  Wanna have a tire flipping contest?”  The entire crew perked up at the suggestion with three of them running to a truck to start working off the bolts of a spare tire. 

The newer soldiers smiled and awkwardly hung around, not sure what their role should be.  So far no suggestions were against orders and Doc hadn’t technically lied about their plans.  Praxis got a read from the group that it was about half and half.  Baby Doll was certainly among those who was untrusting of the situation and was clearly uncomfortable with the captain being gone.  Baby Doll saw himself the sheepdog among wolves trusted in the midst of a herd of sheep.

“So it’s true then?  All of you have to have those tags?  Why do some of you have two?”  Varric pointed to Baby Doll whose tags jingled with each step he took. 

“It’s not a rule, more of a custom thing for us to have one around the neck and one in our boot.”  Z pointed to her foot, the shimmer of silver peeking out from under the laces. 

One of the Civil Affairs soldiers who arrived that morning snorted and attempted a joke.  “Guess that doesn’t apply to Praxis since she gave hers away.”

The Bull crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head up in a challenge.  “She didn’t give it away.  I retrieved it from her severed leg after it had been rotting for a day in the woods.  Afterwards I hunted her captors down and before I could rip their arms off she’d already killed them all and set fire to the building.”

That shut him up instantly, his bulging eyes glued to her dwarven prosthetics, probably wondering which it had been.  The new soldiers slowly all sat down to relocate their second dog tag. 

Looking to fill the quiet, Sammy pipped up.  “You should know the history behind the dog tags.”

Monty groaned as he walked away, “Watch out!  Nerd alert!  Cover your ears!  Save yourselves.”

She flipped him the bird and powered on.  “ID tags for soldiers dates back to the time of the Spartans.”

Varric nudged Praxis.  “Hey, aren’t those the same guys you told us about before?  That fought the battle in a narrow pass?” 

“Yes.  Same ones.”  Sammy searched the ground and found a long stick to use for her demonstration.  “So, for an ID to work it had to be made of something that held no value to looters, so the original ones were made from sticks.  The name and unit would be carved on each end of the stick.  As part of a ceremony before battle, each man would break the stick in half, leaving one piece behind.  This ensured that if a soldier’s ID was unreadable on his body, then from the unclaimed sticks, they could match up the pieces of the unique break to identify the body.”  She held the uniquely broken pieces back together like puzzle pieces.  “The most fascinating part of the ceremony is the symbolism.  The piece that was left behind was referred to as the man’s humanity.  It signified that compassion, love, and family would have to be forgotten so he could focus on the battle.  Then, in the end, he would return to collect his other half, his humanity so that he could morn his fallen brothers.”

“Hot damn, that’s really good!  Would you mind telling me more about them later?”  Varric’s poetic sense jumped on the short story like a fly on shit. 

It was great stuff, a story Praxis had heard many times before, since Sammy enjoyed telling it.  Thinking on the ancient symbolism, she crossed over to The Bull and placed her hand over the dog tag that dangled from his neck.  She craned her neck to look up at him, “This is right where it belongs.”

She reached for his horns and took him in a heady kiss.  He grabbed her by the ass and lifted her up into it. 

“Alright you dorks!  Make room!”  Shady, Risky, and Biscuit worked together to roll the five-foot diameter tire past she and The Bull, breaking up the kiss to reach the center of the clearing. 

Rules were set up and once Shady and Monty had taken turns trying to best the other, more volunteered to give it a shot.  The division of who were soldiers and who were mercenaries faded and it was soon a bunch of guys, hanging out, killing time.  Doc stood next to Praxis and tapped her hand.  Taking the hint, she walked casually away from the ring of cheers and jeers.

“It doesn’t look like I will be invited to this meeting the captain is going to.  Will you be there?”

“Of course, especially with all this shit that’s going on.  But the little prick lied.  The damn meeting isn’t until after lunch.  It’s always after lunch.”  She shook her head in disgust at the lame excuse Rothstein had used to get out of training.  Doc didn’t seem the least surprised.  “I’ll ask Krem if Harding can have some breakfast sent over.  It won’t be as fancy as what Rothstein had, but it’d be better than a Powerbar.”

“Thank you ma’am.  I doubt they can do worse than that brick of hippie shit.”  They both turned at the new round of cheers which were for The Iron Bull.  He had hefted one of the tires over his head and was showing off by pressing it up and down. 

Doc chuckled as the warrior actually managed a wink with his one eye for Praxis.  “You really love him don’t you?  You certainly never looked at me like that.”

Praxis sucked in a breath.  They’d decided long ago they’d never mention those few weeks that were a completely lapse in judgement.  The rules forbid sleeping with subordinates.  Desperate acts by desperate people, searching for anything that would keep them from falling apart. 

She shuddered from the memory, “Fucking wind is cold as fuck.”

“Look, I’m not trying to stir up shit.  I just…Tran told me about your hands, as a friend.”  He retreated a few steps when her eyes burned and she bared her teeth in anger.  “Wait, wait!  Please!  None of that shit is going in any record.  He told me because he was proud of you.  I’m proud of you.  For what that’s worth.”

Praxis crouched down and haphazardly threw half-assedly made snowballs at him.  “It’s means the fucking world to me you son-of-a-bitch!”  She threw them harder, seeking out chunks of ice and feeling vindicated as he shrunk away from each projectile.  “But don’t you assholes talk about me behind my back again!  Fucking ass clowns!  Conniving douche canoes!”

Doc was in tears laughing at her poor insults.  She’d been gone long enough that the trends in insults might have changed.  Jesus, she probably sounded like an old lady, which spurred her on.  She charged the man and wrestled him to the ground where he surrendered without a fight. 

He smiled stupidly up at her, an odd sight on the normally stern man, but she’d seen it before.  This wasn’t the first time she’d straddled him and gazed down at him seeking that smile.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing alright.”  He rolled slowly to knock her off.  “C’mon, we’ll attract the wrong kind of attention.  I don’t think I wanna make Bull angry.”

“You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”  They both laughed at the Hulk joke as they walked back to the group. 

***

“What else can you tell me?”  Leliana had been taking notes on Bull’s report, not once looking him in the eye as he gave his report.  He’d used the excuse of helping Krem to break away from the campsite. 

“Something is holding Praxis back.  She could easily take command of the team out there.  There’s no respect for the captain.”  He stood in Leliana’s office at the top of the rotunda tower.  The birds were comforting to him.  Each one holding little slips of paper that contained jewels of information.  A glorious puzzle waiting to be pieced together.

“How can you tell?”  At his statement, Leliana finally looked up, genuinely curious at his method of deduction.

“Any time he gives an order, they acknowledge with his rank.  Any time Praxis asks for anything they refer to her as ‘ma’am’ despite the fact she’s been stripped of her rank.  They say his rank as a means of defiance, ‘Yes, captain.’  Which means – ‘You being captain is the only reason I am doing this.’  For her, ma’am is respectful used by choice.”

Leliana nodded and returned to her notes, adding a few short lines.  Dotting an i, she finished with a small flourish and then set the pen down, consciously avoiding the pen rest sitting on the desk.  As if reading his mind, she picked up the unused object.  It was a single piece of wood, about the length of his middle finger with four grooves in it.  The center of each groove was inlaid with a circle of lapis lazuli which had been sanded to create a seamless surface. 

“The mages are frightened.  They are all bombarding Viviene and Solas with questions as to when Praxis people will leave.  It hasn’t helped matters that we are still unclear as to their intent.  Solas had this made.”  She held up the pen rest to eye level.  “He said it’s a powerful magic that when used correctly, can make a person invisible.”

Leliana demonstrated the magic by pressing one finger on a stone and a second finger on another.  She vanished right before Bull’s eye.

“As you can see, it’s only an illusion and sound still travels.”  She released one finger to pass the magical object to Bull.

“You sure this will work?  Her Templar abilities have disrupted both Dorian and Dalish’s magic before.”

Leliana folded her arms as she considered the slip of wood. “Solas said he consulted some spirits in the Fade and he used a different weave of magic.  He swears this will work, even around Praxis’ people.”

Bull scoffed as he turned the object around in his hand, learning the feel of it.  “Which means this isn’t the only one that exists and he’s been using it.”

“Now you understand my foul mood.  Solas is no fool.  The appearance of Praxis’ people concerns him enough that he would risk us knowing about this ability just for the opportunity to spy on them.”  She raised a hand to rub at her temple.  “He’s even moved into the mage tower which actually makes it more difficult for my people to keep an eye on him.”

“So, this really is some serious shit.”  Bull tucked the object in his pocket, debating if he’d inform his guys so he’d have the chance to test it out. 

Leliana sighed, her expression falling enough to let Bull know things were worse than she was telling him.  “The reports that I’ve received from the field are concerning.  The forces that were sent with Cullen to Amaranthine may suffer heavy losses.”

Bull ground his teeth with a faint growl.  The bulk of the forces had been sent to Amaranthine as insurance against the Venatori making their way into Orlais.  If Leliana thought there would be heavy losses, then the actual report read ‘unsurvivable’. 

“Then you understand why we can’t afford any setbacks, no distractions.”  She grabbed him by the elbow, forcing him to look at her.  “I know that you and Praxis are close.  You must stay focused, like you were when you were with the Qun.  I mean no offense, but without the Inquisitor there is no future for us, for you.”

 _Untrustworthy Tal-Vashoth._   It’s what she implied.  “Yeah, I got you.”

He turned and descended the stairs without a dismissal.  Even if she’d called him back, he wouldn’t have gone.

 _Tal-Va-fucking-shoth._   He hated the name, hated who it represented.  The more he thought of the word, the more it churned his stomach.  He didn’t want to fit that mold.  He didn’t want it to turn him into – _them._   He must have had murder on his face, for once he stepped into the Great Hall, the crowd parted before him like a ripped seam on a fat man’s ass.  The movement of the crowd drew his mind from its dark place and allowed him to catch the sight of Praxis going into Josephine’s office.

It was still early for the War Room.  She had to be meeting with Rothstein beforehand.  It’s what he’d do.  He ducked back into the hall toward the rotunda and finding it empty, he held the pen rest the way Leliana had showed him, pressing down on two of the stones.

With a steading breath, he walked back into the Great Hall.  No one moved.  No one batted an eye.  He weaved through the crowd which had grown due to the impending midday meal.  It took some time to work his way through.  It wasn’t until this moment that he realized that people typically moved out of his way.  He wondered how normal people tolerated this, it was annoying and slow.

Reaching the office door, he slid in with barely a noise.  Josephine didn’t budge from her seat nor turn to see him continue down the hall toward the War Room.  Bull saw Rothstein and Praxis in a heated discussion up ahead.  This would be the big test.  Time to find out if Solas was full of himself more than usual or if his spirit buddies actually pulled through.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think!  You are not on a board, you have no right to judge me.  My capture is none of your damn business!  I’ll talk to Tran as my medical provider but you are not privileged to that information!  If he thinks I have a problem, then he’ll tell you.”

“Why would I trust any of your people?  You think I didn’t notice?”  Rothstein grabbed her right arm.  “You all bear the same tattoo.  You all have the same idiotic jokes.  I can’t trust him any more than I can’t trust you.”

“Then you’ll have to trust the Inquisitor then.  At least he still has confidence in my mental capacity.”  She stood nose to nose with him.  Never backing down, never showing weakness.  Yet, Bull heard it.  That faint waver of doubt that slithered through her words.  She knew she was on shaky ground with the Inquisition, but as flimsy as that may be, it was more than what Rothstein was allotting her.

“How can you possibly tell me that you are within your right mind?  By your own admission it was his people, these Qunari, who captured and tortured you.  My God, one of them hacked off your fucking leg for Christ’s sake!”

“ **Don’t you ever say that!** ”  She slammed his body against the wall, her forearm buried brutally into his throat.  “He’s nothing like them!  They are not his people!  Those bastards turned their backs on empathy and decency.  They’re nothing but murderers.  Fucking savages that can’t see people as people.  They cling blindly to rules meant for the good of society while crushing the populace with their boot.  Lives are nothing but some sick, twisted numbers game.  The Iron Bull is a good man who is _nothing_ like them.”

She backed off and Rothstein fell to the floor choking as he gasped for breath.  “I will report this.”

She snatched his hair and jerked his head up to face her.  “Then add this to your report.  I will do whatever you say, I’ll play your little fuck-fuck games all day, but I swear to the fucking Maker and his Bride that I will ruin you if you even think of insulting the Iron Bull.  He and his men have done more for the people of Thedas than you could ever dream to achieve in two life times.”

Footsteps sounded behind Bull and he pressed against a wall to let Josephine and the Inquisitor pass.  Immediately Rothstein was up on his feet, the two soldiers playing nice for appearances.  With nothing else to eavesdrop on, Bull traced his steps back to the Great Hall and deemed it best to keep up his stealth until he just outside the tavern.

He ordered a round and took it down in two healthy swigs.  It was a good day to be alive, to be free, to be a Tal-Vashoth.  His own man.  Praxis’ defense of who he was brilliant music for his soul.  He never wanted to forget her rage, her fist in that little shit’s hair.  Damn it was hot. 

Being called Tal-Vashoth would never hurt him again.

He called for another round, this one he nursed.  His mind shifted from drinking to fucking.  Feeling the tiny weight in his pocket, he formulated how he would punish his precious Kadan for dying on him.  A beautiful, insane, and extremely erotic idea blossomed in his mind. 


	7. A Final Goodbye to Skyhold (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition is in desperate need of help and Praxis sets a plan into motion. Meanwhile, Bull comes up with a scheme to remind Praxis what she has to lose if she returns home without him.

Praxis instructed Rothstein that they would stand off to the side until the Inquisitor was able to address his needs.  She didn’t like the feeling of the room.  Mahanon stood with feet firmly planted near the center of the map laid out on the massive table.  He was stiff and cautious, as if the room were about to jump him.  His advisors, to include Lace Harding standing in for Cullen, were on the opposite side of the table.  Typically, they held stacks of papers that contained issues that needed his consideration or immediate attention.  Today, only Lace and Leliana held papers. 

“Inquisitor.”  Lace’s beautiful smile was absent this morning.  A grim, foreboding expression clouded her eyes.  “The Commander has sent a report from Amaranthine.  The Venatori have burrowed themselves in the heart of the port city.  The situation is dire.  We have no navy to attack from the sea and the nearby cliffs bottle neck our forces to the main gates.”

Mahanon’s finger followed the northern coast of Fereldan on the map, stopping at Amaranthine.  The concern in his brow was a punch in the gut to Praxis.  His heart was too kind for this burden.  People would die and he’d feel the pain of each soldier and their grieving family.  Even after all this time and all the death he’d had to witness and deliver, he was still a good man who cared.  She couldn’t help but admire him. 

The Inquisitor cleared his throat, looking to steady his nerves.  “We’re not expected to win are we?”

“No, Your Worship.  The projected losses will be…significant.”  Harding was hesitant in delivering the news, as if saying it made it more real. 

The silence was chilling.  It was the first time that options weren’t presented and alternatives discussed.  Cullen’s forces were too far to send aide.  If they did send anyone from Skyhold, it would leave the castle completely unguarded to only have the unit arrive far too late to help.

Praxis looked at Rothstein from the corner of her eye as an idea formed.  A fucking stupid ass idea, but it was all they had left.  “Captain, how important is it that you interrogate Commander Cullen?” 

“Aside from taking you back with us, it’s my main mission objective.”

Praxis approached the table, “Harding, what is a route to Amaranthine that avoids the main towns?”

A bit confused at the request for a longer route, Harding eyed the Inquisitor who nodded for her to answer.  She took the croupier stick in hand to trace out a path from Skyhold.  “There are four significant towns along the main route.  These two are surrounded by farm land which means the detour will be significant as roads don’t cut through farm land or grazing pastures.”

Rothstein scratched at his chin.  “What qualifies a significant detour?”

“Twenty miles.  Each.”  Stated Harding matter-of-factly. 

Praxis picked up the chopstick like dividers and used them pivot along the road Harding chose.  “I’m getting around 550 miles to include the detours, so let’s round that up to an even 600 to compensate for obstacles.  Depending on the condition of the roads, Rothstein’s people could make it there in ten to thirteen hours.”

Mahanon tilted his head to one side.  “What good does that do us?  Even if it were possible to send every soldier in Skyhold, those…things don’t have the space.”

“We could take you and your main team with us, provide some morale for the troops, or reevaluate to pull back and try a different angle.  If anything it will ensure that Kitty is used in the fight.  Frederick is a wonderful trainer, but he’s not meant for battle.  I can do that, I can help.”  It was a suggestion that Praxis needed Rothstein to buy into.  She also had to present it in a manner that tipped the scales to her desired endgame.  “Captain, the only way the Commander will survive this engagement is if you intervene.  All I’m asking for is transportation.”

“I’m not thrilled about being locked up in a tin can for half a day, but my orders are clear.”  He rubbed his fingers in a nervous gesture.  He avoided looking at anyone, all his attention bore down on the map. 

She nudged him further, “Captain, we’ll want to travel at night, the roads will be clearer then.”

Rothstein cocked a brow at Praxis.  “Night?  Isn’t that when livestock are on the move to avoid the hazards of day traffic?”

“That applies back on earth where vehicles are over abundant and farm animals have to share the roads.  Here, demons are literally falling out of the sky.  No one travels at night.  No one.”

Rothstein scanned the faces of the Advisors to confirm the statement.  He gave a small nod in acquiescence when no one contradicted it.  “I’ll issue the warno to the unit.  We’ll leave at dusk.  Inquisitor, coordinate the requirements of your team with Doc.  He’ll handle everything.”

Praxis thought about the few trips she’d made on horseback and one startling difference needed to be addressed for the Inquisition members.  “Captain, please be sure the Chargers understand our procedures for travel.  No stops for food, sleep or piss.  Have them anticipate no more than two stops for the entire journey.”

He nodded and wondered out the door without another word, wholly distracted by his own thoughts.  The Inquisition leadership watched with varying degrees of confusion.

“Squirrelly bastard.”  Praxis folded her arms over her chest and leaned a hip against the table.

“He’s odder than a three horned halla.  Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”  Mahanon quirked an amused half smile at Praxis.  She was thrilled that his suspicious attitude toward her was waning.

“What’s a warno?”  Harding asked.

“It’s short for a Warning Order.  It’s issued to a team to provide preliminary details such as Mission, Enemy, Terrain and Weather, Troops and Fire Support, Time and Civilian Considerations (METT-TC).  The details of which, I don’t particularly trust he’ll cover when informing the team.  Harding, can we meet back here in forty-five minutes?  I want to get my phone charged and use it to take notes and pictures of the map so we’re set for the journey.”

“As you wish Commandant.  That’ll give me time to check in with the scouts who’ve returned from those areas recently for any updates.”  Harding’s brightening attitude was seriously infectious. 

Leliana was the only one immune.  Her stoicism remained firmly set, which Praxis couldn’t fault.  Odds were she had additional reports from her own people that painted a shittier picture than the Commander would put in a report.

Praxis headed for the door, but Mahanon held her back.  “Wait.  I was unfair to you earlier.  I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“I don’t take it personally.  In all this madness, it’s prudent to be cautious.  This world hangs in the balance and you can’t afford to be too trusting.” 

“You trust Bull.”

She couldn’t help but laugh.  “Oh, blindly!  I’ll do anything he says!  But then, we all know I’m not the smartest person in Skyhold.”  Her giddy mood faded to a somber one.  She took Mahanon by the hand, gripping it firmly as she stared straight into his eyes.  “I swear to you, by all that I am, I will do everything in my power to help you save Thedas.”

He gave a squeeze back.  “I believe you.”

After leaving the War Room, Praxis did retrieve her dead phone from her quarters, but she took a detour before heading back to the campsite to charge it.  She stood impatiently at the door, waiting for her message to filter its way up the tower.  There was no way it took this long to deliver a simple message.  She was being made to wait.

When she was finally ushered in and guided through the mage tower, she made a point to hide her irritation.  Everyone had their little games and powerplays, and being drug through the entire tower was meant to unnerve her.  She could tolerate this.  The stares, the whispers from untrusting mages.  Many even glared with outright hatred. 

Easily tolerated.  None of it mattered, because this was a game Praxis intended to win.  There were no half measures to be had any longer.

At her destination, Lady Vivienne lay lounged on a couch in a small, quiet room.  Praxis remained standing stiff at its center as she was not invited to sit down.

“Well, my dear.  I must say that I was intrigued to receive your message.”  She took a sip from her wine glass.  There was no rush in her demeanor.  Praxis were entirely at the other woman’s leisure.  “You’ve made a reputation for utilizing blackmail to protect your status and to weasel your way into the crux of power of the Inquisition.  I can hardly see how I could possibly add to your machinations.” 

“Mutual business deals are not blackmail and I have a deal to offer you.” 

Praxis methodically explained her plan and her reasoning, careful to cover all points to ensure she had the mage’s agreement.

“Well, that is ambitious and bit clichéd don’t you think?”  Her eyes narrowed and her tone darkened.  “How do I know you will use this in the manner you have described?”

She scrambled to think of something, but nothing was forth coming.  “I have nothing other than my word.”  She fell to her knees.  “I will beg in the mud if that is what you wish.  Prostrate myself before the whole of Skyhold.  You have to see that this is the only way.”

“It does appear that your options are rather limited.”  Vivienne made an elegant expression of disgust that was impressive.  “Desperation is quite unbecoming for you.”

At a flick of the Iron Lady’s hand, Praxis stood as directed.  And waited.  Vivienne sat up, yet still maintained a relaxed posture as she beckoned Praxis closer.  “I can do this for you but I have some stipulations that will come at great personal cost to you should you succeed and even should you fail.”

Vivienne stood, towering over Praxis by a good six inches.  “Now, listen carefully my darling because I will brook no arguments and give no concessions.  These are my terms.  It is this or nothing.”

Praxis was mesmerized by the woman’s lips.  The conditions she laid out were a harsh contrast to the plump, exquisite mouth that lightly caressed perfect teeth.  The non-negotiable terms pierced through her.  They felt barbed, jagged and rusty.  It left behind a sickness she knew would never go away.  Its bitterness filled her senses.

Regret.

Regret she couldn’t do better.  Regret at all that could have been and now, never would be.  Perhaps this was just how it had to be.  Who ever promised that everyone would have a happy ending? 

The Bull, Inamorato.

Their journey together had been beautiful, that’s all she could really ask for.

 

***

 

“Bull!”  Mahanon waved at the warrior from the entrance to the tavern, Dorian by his side. 

The pair closed in on him.  Mahanon leaned against the bar as Dorian opted to stand between them, as if shielding the conversation from the rest of the room.  It was hardly necessary since it well past the midday meal time.  There were few people milling about. 

“Have you heard we’re going to Amaranthine tonight?”  Bull shook his head ‘no’ before he finished his ale, knowing it’d be the last drink he’d be allowed now that there were plans.  Mahanon looked around nervously before tilting his head to have the trio move to the back room.

Dorian shut the door behind them and Mahanon recapped the meeting in the War Room.  “…and I don’t know how it happened, but somehow Pasclina convinced Rothstein she needed to travel with us.”

“Fucking noble crap.”  Bull snorted.  If that bitch had any inkling of Praxis heading toward a battlefield then she’d be the first in line to watch for her to take a fatal hit.  There was no question as to why that worthless cunt wanted to tag along.   

Mahanon fell into a chair and rubbed at his face.  “I’m so tired of everything.”  His arms dropped to his sides, “Is it so bad of me to wish that the fight does fail?  I mean, just to have an end to it all?”

Dorian chided him with a _tsk._   “Amatus, don’t think you’ll escape me that easily.  I’ll resurrect your corpse to ensure you face the full furry of my wrath for trying to skip out on me.  Especially after all I’ve done for you…”

Mahanon barked an easy laugh, “Yes, I know!  Oh, Bull,” he lolled his head to the side to face the warrior.  “Did you know that Praxis had Dorian change his diet so his spunk tasted better?”

“That’s not what I meant!  Honestly!  Are you even aware when we have fought together?!  You’re not an easy man to hold barriers for.”

It was Bull’s turn to collapse with laughter into a chair.  Shaking his head, he wasn’t all that surprised.  “She told me you two talked dirty.  I should have asked for details.  That is priceless!!”  Tilting his head to the mage, he tossed a teasing smile.  “And you did it?  Hot damn that’s hilarious!  Kinky!”

The trio broke into laughter, Dorian a little half-hearted as he was a the target of their amusement.  Once they were reduced to quiet chuckles, Mahanon threw out what truly weighed heavy on his mind.

“Leliana believes she’ll betray us.  After the battle or after we defeat Corypheus.  She keeps emphasizing that it’s just a matter of time.”

The question hung in the air.  Bull knew how Dorian felt, his loyalty rooted in friendship.  Mahanon wanted to believe, but this was still the foreign lands of ‘shemlen’ where things didn’t make as much sense to him as they did with the Dalish.

What did he think?  Bull knew what he wanted.  But what did his training tell him about her?

“I partially agree with Leliana.  She will absolutely help the Inquisition.  As for after…I’d have to talk to Doc or Tran.  They seem to be the ones who know her best.  I can give you an answer before we reach Amaranthine.”  Bull stretched his arms over his head with a grunt before having them rest behind his head.  “As for right now, I’m trying to come up with a good plan for a final romp before we head out.  Keep things spicy.  Try to get her walking funny since we don’t have to deal with horses.  Hey, she tells you secrets and shit.  You got any good ideas?”

“Huh, don’t know why you’d mull over it.  She’ll do anything you say.”  He pushed at Dorian’s thigh with his foot.  “Not everyone is so lucky with their partners.”

“Some of us are sophisticated enough to have limits.”

“But you didn’t even try…”

“Must I constantly remind you of the innumerable reasons as to why that _thing_ is disgusting?  Honestly, do you even know where it comes from?”

“Hey!”  Bull clapped his hands to cut off their line of thought.  “You two deal with your own kinky shit later.  The sooner you help me, the sooner you can go back to…whatever the fuck you’re talking about.”

Mahanon’s eyes darted to Dorian, who, of course, was privy to everything that Praxis and Mahanon discussed.  With an exasperated sigh, Dorian waved his hand.  “Yes, alright fine.  But I have some rules.”

 

***

 

“It’s still strange to think of you making this journey so quickly.  The quartermaster was prepared to make packs for a week’s hard march.  Master Dennet is of course, prepping horses for you to take along.”

Praxis kept her gaze one the map shown on her phone which sat on top of the original.  She’d taken the picture and made notes for each section of road to transfer to the consoles of each of the trucks.  Each front passenger, or Truck Commander, had a computer that linked them all together.  Without GPS her photographs with scribbled notes would be all they had to go by.  She needed to glean as much information as possible from Harding.

“We won’t take the horses.  Even at their fastest pace, they won’t be able to keep up.”  Her head snapped up to find The Bull walking through the creaky door.  She turned back to the map.  “This area here, it shows some change in terrain, but it doesn’t look as drastic as the hills over here…”

They kept at it.  Whatever The Bull had to say was clearly not important since he made no attempt to interrupt.  Harding was generously patient with all of Praxis’ questions.  Part of it was due to her fascination with the phone and its capabilities.  It was only another twenty minutes before Harding excused herself to wrap up the last few tasks that cropped up from their meeting. 

“Giving orders.  Taking command.  Sexy.”  The Bull lurched forward from the wall to walk slowly up to the war table.

“Collaborating and asking nicely.” She corrected.

The Bull stood on the opposite side of the war table from her, his hands braced on the edge.  “Hot as fuck.”

There was a husky rumble to his voice.  A lead-in that was unmistakable.  He was horny and needed attention.  They’d been together long enough that her body registered his tone and reacted.  The Pavlovian response was instant.  A prickling lust stirred within her. 

Riding the sex fueled high, she glided around the table, keeping eye contact with the wall of muscle.  His impressive physique never ceased to amaze her.  As soon as she was near, she sunk to her knees.  Hands braced on the floor, she rubbed her face against his thigh then looked up at him, “What would you have of me?”

“You have done some crap that I’m not too happy with.  That shit you pulled where you died in my arms, that pissed me off.”  The Bull stroked his chin thoughtfully, “And I can recall that you are fucking terrible at submission.  I think a punishment and a lesson are in order.” 

Praxis batted her eyes and held an excited grin on her face.  The Bull pulled a small bell from his pocket, not too dissimilar from those found on a reindeer.  "You're not going to be able to talk.  You feel uncomfortable, unsafe, embarrassed, or you just don't like it, you ring this.  It all ends.  No questions asked."

She giggled brightly up at him.  "I think I know our rules by now."

Bull shook his head once.  "No.  Tonight is different.  Do you understand?"

"Yes.  Of course.  I trust you."

The Bull rolled a dark chuckle in his throat, "We'll see, Kadan.  Open.” 

She presented her wide open mouth for him, curiously watching him place a wooden pen rest in her mouth.  The Bull guided her mouth closed, adjusting the wood so that her teeth landed in the grooves.  “You will keep this in your mouth at all times.  You will be silent.  Do not loosen your grip and do not over tighten it.”

 

While he tied a silk scarf over her eyes, she remained on her knees, keeping her hands to herself.  Her mind swam at the possibilities.  It had been awhile since they tested any limits and she was curious to learn what he’d come up with.

Without warning, he tossed her over his shoulder in one well-practiced motion.  “Test the bell.”

The small ring matched its size but was clear and distinct.  There was no mistaking it for the clattering of boots or buckles. 

Praxis had to admit she was a bit disappointed when The Bull carried her out of the War Room.  That could have been fun.  Then her stomach lurched, thick with dread when he pushed open the door to the Great Hall.  The murmuring of a large crowd filled her ears as she felt the eyes of the whole room fall on them.  The Bull slowed his pace while Praxis attempted to control her racing heart. 

_What the Hell was he thinking?_

There was a trill of laughter across the room.  Giggling nearby, yet, no indignant gasps.  Praxis only made this observation once they had reached the dais where the Inquisitor’s throne was perched.

The Bull set her down to rest on her knees, she could tell by the noise she faced the crowded Hall.  She clutched the little bell tightly, the cool metal too smooth to bite into her skin, but she needed to feel some sense of security.  She needed to feel some lifeline of sanity, of control.  Panic threatened to overwhelm her. 

“Hands behind your back.”

She flinched at the fresh voice that peppered sweet breaths over her face.  It was Mahanon. He whispered the command softly, yet firm enough she obeyed instantly.  Still blind, her mind was a mess.  Her body shook and she feared she’d set the bell off. 

_Just…just give it a chance._

Large familiar hands bound hers in soft, familiar rope.  _The Bull is still here.  I’m safe._

Task completed, The Bull held her hand for a moment longer before letting go.  She didn’t know if he stayed near or if he backed away.  The only thing that became strikingly clear was Mahanon’s voice, crisp and lazy to the point she could imagine the slow movements of his tongue as he formed the words. 

“You’ve been a bad girl.  Teaching naughty things to my lover.  Disobeying your own.  This cannot be tolerated.”  Mahanon roughly grabbed the back of her neck at the base.  His fingernails dug in as he pressed a dagger against her cheek.  It was serrated and ice cold, so cold that it had to be enchanted.  “I will teach you some fucking manners.”

She almost rang the bell.  Survival instincts were screaming at her to fight, to run.  It was horrifying…until he tapped her neck two times.  A gesture she and Bull adopted to ensure the other knew when they were ‘playing’.   Two taps on a pulse point, whether neck, wrist, or ankle, meant that they were testing new waters and what they said was only a game.

This was a whole new goddamned ocean of what-the-fuck.  It took a few deep shuddering breaths to calm down, _he taught him the tap, I’m safe, it’s just a game._   That took some of the edge off and helped her refocus on the goal – she wasn’t meant to enjoy this.  Well, not traditionally. 

She wasn’t armor and only the bare minimum for clothing.  Knowing they were going to travel later in the day, she only wore a shirt and simple breeches she’d snagged from her room.  A blessing once Mahanon went to work.

The pressure on her neck released.  A warm blade brushed over her bare arm.  The enchanted heat was perfect – just shy of scalding.  It would leave her skin pink.  The blade twisted to ride the razor sharp edge up under her sleeve.  Taking a deep inhale, she only flinched a little when he sliced through the fabric. 

Her hands were clasped at the base of her spine, she squeezed them tight.  The bell was still there. 

Next, the cold blade traced down her spine, the serrations slicing through the material with ease.  The pointed tip bounced over her vertebrae, dipping with dangerous force in the interstitial spaces. When Mahanon’s knife made its way to her wrists, he lifted her hands to finished cutting underneath. 

The shirt fell to the ground.  Despite the roaring fires that were constantly ablaze, she felt a cool breeze hit her skin.  It was a punch to the gut.  It was then she acknowledged that it was the evaporating sweat that had beaded on her skin from the stress. 

Sweet Maker this was intense.  She had to take deep calming breaths.  The lack of commentary from those gathered in the Hall gave her strength.

_Am I not interesting enough?_

Bitterness pushed her bravado.  She wanted more.

Large, warm hands skimmed over her ass, fingers caressed lightly.  Reverently.  When they backed off, she felt a blade dip under her breeches at each hip.  The contrasting temperatures made her squirm.  Her head jerked back suddenly, the pain piercing through her face to rattle her teeth. 

“I didn’t tell you to move!”  Mahanon’s voice hissed against the back of her neck. 

The pain.  The reprimand.  She squirmed again in defiance. 

Her hair was pulled harder.  The Inquisitor’s voice was angry and only made her want to piss him off even more.  “I was going to be gentle, but now you’re asking for it.”

The blades sunk deeper into the clothing, cutting through the thicker material with greater difficulty than the shirt.  They were so sharp that the pain from the daggers only registered on the same level as a paper cut.  Probably just as deep. 

Just like her shirt, the pants fell to the floor, exposing all of her body.  By this point, she was becoming more comfortable in the public setting.  She wanted yell for people to look.  She wanted to hear their admonishment, their hatred, their disgust.  Their opinions were less significant than a speck of dust floating in the wind.  No one would be able to steal this from her.  Her heart raced.  All she wanted was to do good for her Inamorato.    

The Bull’s hands returned to her ass.  They were hot and slick.  She wiggled her fingers, hoping he’d touch them, but he had other plans.  Instead, his thumb circled over her tight pucker.  A far cry from her wanton folds, but she’d take what she could get.  She hummed with pleasure until a firm smack to the ass cracked loud and sharp.

“Not a fucking sound slut.”  Mahanon’s voice rattled her, even with the low tone.  His smaller hand stung more than The Bull’s.  His thin fingers worked her like a whip.

She sucked in a breath, but still turned her head over her shoulder.  With the blindfold, she couldn’t see him, but had a decent guess where he stood.  She grinned as best she could with the wood still clenched in her teeth. 

The hot blade slide skillfully under her throat, pressing into the soft flesh, not quite slicing through.  “You are a terrible little shit.  Hold still.”

The Bull’s hands returned to her rear and then there was pressure.  The tight walls of her ass fought against the smooth intrusion, but eventually gave way to tuck away a small ball.  Then another.  And another.  He was feeding the long string into her, each ball larger than the previous.  She fought to breathe, panting around the obstruction in her mouth.  Drool dripped from her chin.

Mahanon chuckled at her struggle.  He hummed a quiet tune she didn’t know.  It often blended into the buzz of the crowd.  Then there was a searing heat as he pressed the tip blade against her nipple. 

_Holy shit, shit, shit!_

The prick of the blade coupled with the heat was intoxicating.  She smelt the sizzle of her sweat.  It was hotter than before. 

The Bull pressed another ball in her. 

Then the ice blade took over.  She snorted and huffed, squirming despite Mahanon clutching her throat and The Bull holding her hips down. 

Powerless.  Taunted.  Molded.

She ran her tongue over the wood, looking for the right position to make swallowing easier.  There wasn’t one.  She could feel her windpipe struggle vainly in the palm of the Inquisitor’s hand.  Regretfully, her saliva spilled out over his hand.  This did not deter him in anyway, if anything, he tightened his grip, her airway nearly collapsed.  

She fingered the bell, readied it…but he let go.  Even blinded, there were splotches in her vision from the lack of oxygen. 

“You want more?”

She managed a nod and he released her neck.  He played with her other nipple.  First an intense heat that he held to the point she tried to wiggle away, at which point The Bull held her steadfast so Mahanon could tease with the ice blade.  Once he was done using his daggers, The Bull reached around to have his massive hands cup her breasts, massaging the mixture of sensations together.  Overcome, she choked briefly on he own spit.

There was hardly any time to think, to recover.  The men moved from one thing to the next flawlessly.  A thin, bare foot wedged between her knees.  “Spread them.” 

The pain of the stone floor became fresh when she obeyed Mahanon’s command.  Although smooth, it was still unforgiving and bit into her knees.  Her rear lowered at the movement and she heard the _clink_ of the last bead on the string that dangled from her asshole. 

Strong, warm hands smoothed up her back and she arched into them.  When they reached her neck, the tying began.  For a man who’d never seen shibari, The Bull proved that some things in life were universal.  Such as the beauty found in the art of rope bondage. 

Gracefully, he looped the rope around her neck, arms, torso, breasts, anywhere and everywhere.  All of her was still exposed yet…she felt safe, controlled, sexy, admired.  Each knot was tugged tight and sealed with a kiss.  The brush of his scruff on her skin was maddening. 

The addition of Mahanon to their play had made things interesting, but The Bull.  Fuck.  It was his thin scarred lips, and moist, hot breath that made her wet.  She knew what he could do with his tongue.  Knew how his skillful fingers could play her.  Andraste’s tits, he was an exquisite bundle of sinful pleasure. 

The ropes followed her bikini line, but squirm as she liked, she couldn’t find the sweet pressure her pearl desired.   The Bull finished the last knot at her knee, chuckling at her struggle.

He took the blindfold off.  She caught only a glimpse of the crowded room, many were taking their seats for the evening meal.  The Bull whirled her around to face the Inquisitor’s throne.  She was close enough to touch it, if she had use of her arms. 

The Bull stood as she blinked the world into a clearer view.  The current throne was crafted from the maw of a dragon Mahanon had felled a few months ago.  The armrests were worthless since they were a set of pointed teeth.  Yet, Mahanon sat sprawled in the throne, leaning to one side with a foot propped up on the armrest, wedged between two dragon’s teeth. 

“Commandant.  In light of your public punishment, I see now that you have no regard for your own humility.  I wonder…”  The Inquisitor still spoke low only for the three of them to hear.  His pause was unnerving and brought back the tingling fear she’d experienced when The Bull had carried her in.  “I wonder how you would like it if someone else’s humility were at stake.”

With the waggle of a finger, he drew The Bull closer.  “Oxman.”

Praxis’s eyes popped wide open then narrowed on the Herald of Andraste.  She seethed audibly. 

“Don’t like that do you?  Submit and perhaps I’ll play nice.”

How far were they going to take this?  What were they going to do?  It was dizzying to think on, but she managed to push all that aside to finally give in completely.  Her body went slack.  Yet, her heart leapt to her throat.  What came next?

“Much better.”  Mahanon turned a smug grin to the warrior at his side.  “The Iron Bull.  Service me.  Show her what it means to submit.”

She shook her head in disbelief.  _No, no, no…oh, holy shit.  This is not happening!_

Mahanon pulled himself loose.  Even flaccid, his package was mouthwatering.  The Bull dropped to his knees and took all of it in his mouth.  His cheeks hallowed as he sucked on the elven cock.  With each easy bob of his head, she watched it grow, filling the warrior’s mouth. 

She whimpered like a kicked puppy when she saw the bulge of the tip moving in her lover’s throat. 

She grunted when Mahanon grabbed The Bull by the horns and thrust into his mouth. 

Mahanon cooed at the sensation.  “Oh, fuck this is good.  So fucking good.  Do you see this?  Here.”  He poked a finger in the side of The Bull’s mouth and pulled back to expose the inner workings.  “Look at this wonderous shit!”

The Bull slowed his pace, but continued to have his tongue dance around the man’s arousal.  Long flat laps from base to tip.  Swirling slurps over the head.  Back down again, to have his lips pressing into his crotch.  His throat opened wide to take the elf deep and his tongue reaching out to tease at his balls. 

Over and over she watched.  Mahanon’s hips riding up into the motions while his hands pressed down on The Bull’s head.  His hissing breaths were astoundingly sexy, stroking the hot fire of passion in her belly.  She rocked back and forth, side to side.  Her clit raged at the insult.  It begged to be touched.  She clenched her muscles, hoping that the anal beads could do something, but it only made things worse.  Like being stuffed with a prick that refused to move.  So close but entirely too far.  She was brought to the edge and lacked the means to jump.    

She now fought against her bonds, mentally tracing the path The Bull had used.  She could get out.  If she were going to get off at all, she’d have to free herself.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  Her attention snapped back to the throne to Mahanon’s voice.  “You break free and this ends.  You may as well ring your bell.”

She growled indignantly, her spit added a weak sputter to the sound. 

Mahanon leaned back and slumped further in the chair.  “That’s what I thought.”  He pulled down harder on The Bull’s horns, keeping his face buried between his legs.  The act elicited a choking gasp when he finally let him loose.  “Fuck yeah, you take that.  Bigass cumslut, take that shit.”

The Bull huffed and snorted.  The gurgling at the back of his throat betraying how thoroughly he was enjoying himself.  If Praxis hadn’t already learned his tells, then when he dropped his pants to his ankles to palm himself would have been the biggest hint that this was a huge turn on for The Bull.  God damn he could suck cock like a pro and he fucking loved it. 

His strokes matched the Inquisitor’s excited whines.  Mahanon bucked more and The Bull’s movements became more jerky.  Mahanon began the telltale _nugghh-nuggh_ hissing that all men seemed to share in the heat of passion. 

The lust that throbbed in Praxis’ core was relentless. It rang in her ears.  She wanted to scream.  How dare those fuckers keep her out of this!

The Inquisitor pushed The Bull’s face away violently, angling his cock to have his release spray all over his expensive jacket.  Praxis had to giggle at the thought of him explaining the garment’s soiled state to Josephine. 

Then she heard The Bull.  Deep, labored breaths.  A husky growl ripped through his teeth as his shoulders heaved. 

Mahanon continued to stroke himself lazily.  His words came on thick pants.  “Yes.  Do it.  Fucking cum on me.  I never want to wear this damn thing again.” 

The Bull pinched his eye shut and with a muted cry he jutted all over Mahanon, his jacket, his pants, even dribbled some on his wrapped feet with his last stifled breaths.  Wrecked, The Bull crumbled to sit on his ass, leaning against the throne. 

She wanted to go to him.  She wanted to soothe him, to hold him steadfast while her mouth worshiped every inch of his skin.  He was still hard and she wanted to taste him, wanted to set his nerves on fire, have him babbling incoherent until he blacked out.  She wanted him so fucking hard.  But, she was stuck.  Kept within the bonds that she chose to obey.  Her head sank to her chest as she waited to be told what she was allowed to do. 

A few words were exchanged between The Bull and Mahanon, then she was lifted delicately off the ground.  She felt like a bruised flower petal that the Tal-Vashoth wished to preserve.  He cradled her in his arms and walked out towards the gardens, the quickest route to their room.  Praxis watched the room intently.  Everyone kept to their meals, none bothered to cast them a single wayward eye.  Refusing to think on it any further, not wanting it to ruin her night, she curled into The Bull, burrowing her face into his damp skin until they reached their quarters.

She woke from a light doze when he set her on the bed.  She felt the tucked blankets give way beneath her weight.  The dip she made in the bed popped up significantly when The Bull removed her metal prosthetics.  The next thing he took was the wooden pen rest from her mouth.  Her cheeks ached and her jaw was sore.  She pushed her face into a pillow while The Bull released her bonds. 

The red rope fell limp to the bed.  It always came off quickly, part of the design The Bull worked into the knots.  While he wound it up for storage, she ran her hands over her body.  She could feel the impressions of the patterns the rope made.  She sighed pleasantly at how the pink lines accentuated her curves and highlighted angles.  She felt beautiful, especially when The Bull gazed down at her as if she were a piece of art.  His rough smile loomed over her, his eye scanned her appreciatively. 

“Did you feel any of the magic?”  The Bull held up the small wooden object he’d retrieved from her mouth.

“Magic?  No.”

“Solas tried some new shit.  I don’t understand it much more than what it does.  I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that no one out there saw us tonight.”

Praxis threw her hands over her face.  “Oh!  Oh!  Sweet baby Jesus thank God.  Oh, holy damn.  That’s…oh man that’s comforting.”

The Bull lowered himself over her.  He planted hot, wet kisses over her breasts.  In this privacy, she had no reservations about noise and moaned loud, arching up into each kiss. 

“You did well for me Kadan.  I think you’ve earned your treat now.”

He slowly closed in on her crotch.  His tongue lapped twice to nudge at her folds then his whole mouth tenderly consumed her.  She nearly came from that one act alone.

He suckled as his hand made its way towards her ass.  Finding the end of the anal beads, he tugged.  The sudden buildup of pressure then release made her yelp.  She clawed at the sheets.

“Keep going, keep going, don’t stop, please don’t stop, _I’m coming, I’m coming._ ”

The Bull feasted on her dripping slit and steadily removed the rest of the sting.  As if by magic, her body knew when the last bead was released and she came, screaming at the top of her lungs.  The explosive power behind her orgasm was mind numbing and she wrapped her legs around The Bull’s face to continue to ride that high for as long as possible. 

As the sensation faded, so did her grip on her lover.  She melted into the bed, teetering on the brink of a deep sleep.  She felt The Bull cuddle up beside her, his arm slung lazily over her waist.  When he kissed her, she could taste herself on his lips. 

She giggled.  “That was incredible.”

“Be careful with your praise.  You’ll give me a bigger head than Dorian.”

She pulled him down for a deep kiss, filled with passion and greed.  “You are too good to me.”

“And you are perfect for me.”

Praxis eyed him skeptically.  “Are you talking to me or my breasts?”

“Hey!  Don’t be so insulting!  I was including your ass and sweet pussy too.” 

She pounded her fists on his chest before resorting to playful kisses over his neck and shoulders.  “You are fucking terrible and irresistible.” 


	8. Change of Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull learns more about Praxis' people, and even more about Praxis than he ever thought possible.

Bull nudged at Praxis passed out on the bed.  Her skin was still damp and warm.  He wanted nothing more than to keep her pressed to his and savor in that sweet smell of sex that always lingered after they’d fucked. 

“Kadan, it’s getting dark out.  We need to go.”  He chose to keep his voice low as his lips danced over her ear and his fingers skimmed over her body.  The little dip her waist made before flaring out to luscious hips was his favorite.  As much as he wished to linger there, they had a job to do.  His hand continued its journey to round over her rear where he grabbed her ass cheeks and squeezed viciously. 

“Oh God dammit!”  She squealed and squirmed in a half-assed attempt to escape his aggressive groping. 

He slid from the bed, then helped her to her feet.  When she found her balance, he knelt to check the straps and padding of her prosthetics.

“Worried you fucked me so good by legs would fall off?”

Bull pressed wet kisses to her inner thighs, delighting in how she turned to jelly from the simple touch.  “You know it.”

“Cut it out, we need to go!”  It was impossible to take her seriously when she laughed more than she spoke. 

He nipped and bit at her legs in defiance, holding firmly to her hips to prevent her escape.  She fell back on the bed in a fit of hysterics, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she calmed her laughter.  Taking hold of his horns, she pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss, her giggles hummed against his skin. 

If anyone had ever told Bull years ago that his world would shrink down to making one person happy, he’d have called them possessed. 

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just out to- _oh._ ”  Her expression fell as his meaning dawned on her.  Once again, Bull helped her to her feet.  “But…you know I have to.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”  Bull grabbed a large bag of gear he always had ready for missions.  Praxis donned her Inquisition leathers grabbed a few personal belongings and her stuffed nug.  All of which she tucked into his bag.  She led the way out into the hall and Bull surveyed the room, a final check before they left.  He looked at the pot of violets in the window.  They would probably die.   

Along the walk out the campsite, Bull mused aloud, “What if I went with you?  Krem can handle the Chargers.  I cut my horns…”

Praxis punched him in the side, much harder than could be considered playful.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  No.  No!”  She grabbed at his arm but it was she who twisted to face him.  “How dare you consider mutilating yourself like that.  Don’t be some fucking romantic cunt about this.  Please tell me you’re joking.”

Bull gently cradled her tiny chin in his massive hand.  So dissimilar, it left one wondering where the attraction was.  “Such fire in your soul, and you wonder why I consider doing such things.”

“You’ve got some real shit ideas, Innamorato.”  She glared at him but he saw the glimmer of a tear before she turned her back on him.  She didn’t want to leave either.

Good to know, but not helpful in the current circumstances. 

Bull slowed his pace down, giving her the room he knew she wanted.  There was nothing either of them could do or say now.  The die was cast.  She had to go back and he couldn’t follow her.

 _Damn._  

Surveying the area.  The stiff air of professionalism that had brought them back to Skyhold was gone like a fart in the wind.  Some of the soldiers sat with Varric listening to music.  Another group raced each other in full Inquisition plate armor.  A few others were playing with a dead spider like a marionette. 

As soon as Krem saw him, he rushed up.

"Krem-de-la-Krem.  What's the good word?"

"Wanna know about these soldier types, huh?  They're loud, crude obnoxious, and we can't get them to shut up."

"That much fun huh?"

"They'll bet on anything.  _Anything._   I've lost about 15 copper, but made 60 of these paper off of ‘em.  Look at this shit Chief, Dorian swears its currency.”  As Bull examined the green paper, Krem continued. 

“They’re fucking strange to talk to.  Can’t piss ‘em off.  Nothing works, we’ve tried.  Insults about mothers?  You should hear the shit they come up with.  Every one of them knows the same insults.  Creepy as fuck when six guys say the same thing at the same time.”  Krem pointed over at three Orlesian servants arguing with Doc.  “Lady pomp-in-shit sent some servants down with wagon load of her stuff.  Seems they’re determined to talk Doc deaf.  His crew refuses to pack anything but one trunk.  This caused the servants to get indignant and call them dog lords.  Worst mistake possible.  Like I said, you can’t piss ‘em off.  They’ve been barking and laughing all afternoon.  Z demands to be called Reina Roscoe, Risky’s asked to be Lord Labrador.” 

 **“What yo name be?”** Monty shouted at the top of his lungs as Praxis showed up.

She answered just as loudly, **“Who you is?”**

All of the soldiers burst into laughter at a joke that was unknown to everyone else.

Krem put a hand on Bull’s bicep to impart his seriousness.  “Chief, I really think they’re actually children and we’re under some spell that has us convinced they look like adults."

Bull had to chuckle at the observation.  Praxis had been much the same when she first arrived, but her temperament changed and adapted over time.  She had made efforts to fit in to some degree – she had to if she wanted to get any work done.

When Bull gave no answer, Krem moved on, "Have to say the most annoying thing they do is wash their hands for any Maker forsaken reason."

“They use drinking water to wash their hands?"

"No, each one of the bastards has a bag of damp cloths for that.  Of all the limited shit a person can carry, for fuck knows what reason that's a priority."

"Explains the smell."  Bull scrunched his nose even though none were near enough to smell.  Even a person straight out of a bath didn’t smell as clean and sweet as these men did. 

“Then there’s the shit that they’re afraid of.  I can understand the giant spiders, but this, I dunno, there must be more to it.”  Krem pulled a playing card out of his pocket.  The back was a plain color the but the numerical face had a color portrait of two people fucking.

“That’s some damn fine porn.  Damn, I don’t think even a painting could get that detailed.”  Bull plucked the card up closer to his eye.

“That’s what we thought, but apparently this is scary, unwanted porn.”

“Scary?  Krem, it’s just sex.”  Bull tilted the card, returning it.

“I know, and these guys are pretty open about sex, but for them…it’s unusable.  That white paint on the faces – they call ‘em clowns.”  Krem threw his hands in the air in mock defeat.  “For whatever reason, these are the scariest damn things on the planet.  They use these cards to punish people who fuck up.”

Bull laughed, “How’d you get one?” 

“Risky has to hold the deck for now.  Seems that those pouches of food they have, there’s one with eggs in it and he’s at fault for packing it.  Nasty shit apparently.  Not only is he the one who’s going to eat them, he has to carry the deck as well.  As for the card, he gave me one as a souvenir.”

Bull peered over Krem’s shoulder.  It was a decent piece of smut.  Raging cock, dripping pussy.  The overly large red shoes where a small turn off, but not a deal breaker.  How could anyone not look past the goofy paint on the faces? 

“Hey Krem, I was going to see if… _UGH_ HOLY CHRIST!  Who did you piss off to get that?!  Eww, put it away!  You’re gonna give me nightmares.”  Praxis pushed the offending card away.  Krem cocked a brow at Bull - ‘ _told you so’._  

Praxis put a hand to her head, averting her eyes until the card was put away.  “I wanted to ask if there was anything else the Chargers needed before I dismiss the last runner.”

“So long as you’re not shitting me about this miraculous twelve-hour timeline, we’re good.”

She smiled back and gave him a pat on the shoulder before leaving, “I know you planned on longer regardless, but I wanted to be sure.”  She blew a kiss at Bull and was gone again.

Bull leered down at Krem with a smug grin, “Still think you made the right choice?”

He elbowed Bull hard to put some space between them.  “Yeah, and I’m not going to fuck it up either.”  Then he pointed an admonishing finger, “Good advice for you too, hmm?”

Bull sought out his Kadan, she was easy to find – right in the center of work getting done.  With the arrival of Praxis, the soldiers began to get their collective shit together.  The games stopped but the laughter remained as the team set to work.  It wasn’t that she told them what to do, it’s that she helped Krem and the Chargers get ready which meant that Rothstein would be back soon. 

Praxis briefed the Chargers on what to expect – no stops.  Eating, sleeping, pissing all happened in the tight space of the trucks.  Need to shit?  Hold it.  She explained the radios system and how the night vision helmets would ensure they didn’t run over anything or anyone unintentionally.  She taught the Chargers hand signals and common commands, let them know standard procedures if they have to stop due to an attack.  Her old team had run too many convoys to change their tactics now, it was best to have them handle the transport and if anything went ‘down’, then the Inquisition would deal with it.

It wasn’t long before Rothstein arrived, the last one, even after the Inquisitor.  His leisurely pace reminded all that he was the one in command of the convoy.  His word made the mission happen.  The Inquisition was nothing but a passenger in his eyes. 

He barked a command at his team and went through the mission objectives and assigned the order of the trucks.  Shady asked two questions about the type of terrain to expect and stopped after two, ‘I don’t know’.  When Z asked the type of threats to expect, at least this time Rothstein pulled his balls out of his ass and told her to ‘ask Sunset’. 

The frustration among the team was hidden well.  The newer soldiers were the only ones who had the decency to appear flabbergasted at the fact their Commander didn’t know anything about the trip out there other than the destination.  Bull couldn’t help but laugh to himself.  He’d managed a decent blow job and a steamy fuck and knew more than this coat of fresh paint. 

The work of the soldiers was stagnated a bit after the meeting with Rothstein.  It wasn’t as smooth since the man inserted himself in tasks that didn’t concern him.  He told people to do things that contradicted what Praxis said, or what the Inquisitor stated was necessary for _his_ team.  Praxis kept her distance from her team but slightly apart from the Chargers.  She’d taken up another cigar, possibly to keep from saying something that would make the situation worse.

It took an hour before the group left Skyhold. 

 

 

During the trip, Bull opted to not have a headset on.  He really couldn’t stomach hearing voices in his head.  He, Doc, Praxis, Dalish, and Sam rode with Z, Shady and Pete, who drove.  The space was a little tight, but then, Bull was larger than most.  The inside was dark with a few spots of red light scattered throughout the interior.  Up front with Pete, a whole strip of metal was illuminated and Shady had an exact replica of the map from the War Room to guide them.  Nothing was intentionally bright, as explained by Doc, it was designed to preserve night vision. 

Sam and Praxis were conked out only minutes into the trip.  Their heads swayed and bobbed.  Praxis eventually propped hers on Bull’s shoulder and Sam wedged hers between some bags.  They still wore the headsets.  Bull could hear the indistinct sound of constant talking.  How the two women slept through it all was a complete mystery to him. 

At least it gave him the chance to keep Dalish occupied.  She wasn’t happy about being stuck surrounded by these pseudo-Templars for so long.  She had a death grip on her staff which Dorian outfitted with additional runes to strengthen the connection to the Fade.  Bull shouted over the roar of the vehicle, asking if it helped.  Dalish pinched her fingers to indicate only a small bit.  It was going to be rough for her, but she had opted to come.  Bull wouldn’t have forced her. 

The first five hours were uneventful.  The rough jostling ceased when they reached the base of the mountains.  Going through the plains was much faster and smoother.  Bull couldn’t look out the window, it was worse than seasickness, even with the limited view he had in the darkness. 

Shortly after leaving the mountains behind, both Sam and Praxis shot up at the same time, wide awake.  The talking on the headset grew louder, then the truck slowed.  Bull nodded to Dalish and she looked relieved to have a reason to get out of the confining space. 

Doc leaned across the space to ensure Bull heard him, “Our guys found a rift that your Inquisitor mentioned.  He wants to close it.  Your team will dismount.  We’ll hang back.”

Dalish practically sprinted from the vehicle.  Bull could tell when she was connected to the Fade once more.  Her body glowed blue for a moment and her posture became more confident, thrilled to shed her handicap.  For a moment, he wondered if he had carried himself with such dejection when he first lost his eye. 

The rift wasn’t too far from where they stopped.  Bull made a mental note that there was an odd amount of smoke coming from the nearby farm.  They’d need to investigate that once they finished kicking some demon ass. 

The battle was the normal shit.  They fought.  They took some nasty hits, but they had done this so many times, it was more of a dance than anything. 

Right as the final group of demons were about to see the last of this side of the Fade, suddenly, everything went to shit. 

Dalish and Dorian’s magic stopped working properly, which meant weak ass barriers.  Rothstein’s people rushed the field, mixing in with the Chargers and there were even a few civilians popping in and out of the battle field.  It was complete chaos - worse than fucking Orlesain politics put in motion.  Bull worked to reach the Inquisitor, but he saw that Praxis had beat him to it. 

After she spoke to him, Mahanon immediately called for his team to retreat.  As the Inquisition cleared the field, Rothstein’s people took over.  Bull mentally accounted for everyone, searched for obvious injuries and finding everything to be under control, turned his attention back on the abandoned battle field. 

There was an element of discord among the group.  They had ranged weapons and it was stupid for them to advance on their target, yet Rothstein called for it.  Despite the shit tactic, the few remaining demons were shredded to ribbons within seconds. 

Bull had once complimented Varric on the lethal accuracy of Bianca, but this.  Holy shit, this was a new level of fucked.  The blundering civilians were apprehended and tied up much like the Chargers had been the other day.  Fuck.  Had it really only been one day? 

The murmurs behind him made him look at Dorian.  The man stood watching with no emotion, no real reaction.  “You seen them do this before?”

Dorian gave a shrug of his shoulders, keeping his arms tight over his chest.  “Similar.  I saw a training exercise of a few thousand with larger weapons.”  With a grand gesture of his hand, he indicated the scene before them with a flourish.  “If there is anyone who has any objections to ensuring the connection between our two worlds is permanently sealed, I should so dearly love to hear your argument.” 

“Maker’s balls.  That’s…that’s not right.”  Krem remained awed at the sight. 

Shaking his head, Varric stepped back.  “Shit.  I don’t even know where to begin to describe that.” 

“It’s calmed down, we should head over there to see if they need help.”  Mahanon sought a firm tone, but everyone one heard the waver.  No one faulted him for it.  They all felt the same tremor course through their soul. 

Seeing men and beast struck down by magic was a sight to behold, strange, but it was natural.  Magic worked within the natural world – water, fire, lightning – they all had a place in the world. 

But this…

What these people could do, was…creepy.  Even to Bull who’d witnessed the power of gaatlok.  Nothing they had was remotely close to this.  The gaatlok cannons were used to destroy strongholds and ships.  These weapons were designed to destroy armies. 

Closing in on the victors, Bull noticed the civilians were actually bandits.  They probably had the fool notion to pick off their armor once the demons were done with them.  Their interference must have caused Rothstein to jump into the mix. 

_Damn.  That explained the fire at the cottage._

Tran mended the wounded.  Baby Doll had been injured and laid near Tran to side self-treat. 

A flash of movement and his eye fell on her.  Praxis threw off the leathers borrowed from Skinner since they were shredded and beyond repair.  The weight must have made breathing difficult.  As she sucked in air through her mouth, her face was pinched in concentration - she was looking for the next threat, the next task to attack.

When their eyes met, he felt a heavy dread pull at the pit of his stomach. 

It was like Gaat all over again. 

_No, not again, I can't...._

Gaat’s voice echoed in his mind.  _“Good work Hissrad?”_

The expectant eyes that sought acknowledgement, affirmation – purpose.  What the fuck did Bull know of purpose?

"Hey - HEY!” Praxis shouted, her voice harsh.  “You good?" 

His response stalled in his throat.  She made to join him, but he waved her off, "I'm good.  I’m good."

"Alright."  She nodded, and with a wink, set off to see to the rest of her people.

Bull stood frozen, unsure how to piece together what happened.  What made this different?  He watched her go from person to person, starting with the newer soldiers. 

_Can you think clearly?  Are you sick?  Do you need to throw up?  You need to take a shit?_

_Here's some water.  Sit down, chill, we're here._

_I'm here._

"She wasn't always like this you know."  Doc materialized at his side.  “She tried to talk the Cap’n out of it.  Wouldn’t listen.  He spouted off about his duty.  She told him to fuck off." 

Doc paused, weighing the consequences of broaching a sensitive subject.  Bull allowed him all the time he wanted.  “She tell you about the ambush?  You two are tight enough, surely she has."

Bull ground out a tired sigh at the old subject Praxis didn’t like to discuss.  "Yeah.  She still beats herself up about it."

"She should.  It was her fault."  A crooked smile grew on his face at this dirty little secret.  "I'm the only one who knows.  I was there when she received the orders.  She repeated the same mission shit you hear from Rothstein."

Doc's expression dimmed, memories clouded over his eyes.  "Afterward, she couldn't remember.  I was the only one who knew and I held on to that.  I dreamed of her day in court and how justified I’d be, striking her down, exposing the shit leadership for what it was.  I wanted her to suffer.  I wanted to see the knife of betrayal slice through her like a razor."

Bull was shocked to his core.  He’d gathered that Doc and Praxis were close friends, possibly lovers at one time, and this wasn’t what he’d expected.  "What stopped you?"

"She put herself through the grinder for me, for all of us.  We got better medical care because of her.  If she hadn't pressed her connections in the Senate, none of us would have a job.  Decorations, funeral arrangements, mental health counseling - all of it because of the guilt she carried. Seeing her side-by-side with the Cap’n, she’s a whole new person.  If she knew now what she did…it’d crush her.”

Bull sneered, still unsure how to assimilate the new information.  “ _Hmpf_.  Yet, you’ve still thought of telling her, haven’t you?”

“I spoke to my aunt about my dilemma.  She is a priestess of sorts, a seer.  She told me that the ambush was Praxis’ moment of ‘awakened knowledge’.  Life presented her with the choice – see or not see.  She chose to see and accept, to change.”  The reverent way Doc said ‘change’ hinted at his jealousy. 

Bull crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Doc skeptically.  “So you go from wanting to see her destroyed to banging her?” 

The man laughed with a shake of his head, “You really are as good as she said.  Yeah, yeah.  We slept together for a bit.  Sorta under the premise of shared experience helping the recovery process.  Or some bullshit like that.  People believe what they want to feel right about doing the wrong thing.”  He blew out a puff of air, “I was the reason it didn’t work.  I couldn’t forgive her.  Despite the change she brought to the unit, how she made amends – none of it was good enough for me.  I think she knew it too.  Fuck.  How could I keep her in a relationship where every time she looked at me, seeking acceptance and I couldn’t give it to her?”

_“You good?”_

Bull took hold of the dog tag that dangled from his neck.  If he needed it, she would have been at his side, would have done anything for him.  She didn’t have to ask, didn’t have seek anything.  With Bull, she knew.

The metal edges pressed painfully into his palm.

He needed her.  He needed her purpose.  He needed her humanity.  Being with her kept him from falling to the chaos. 

_“You good?”_

Yes, His Kadan would always point him in the right direction.  With her, he’d never sink into the madness. 

Doc’s voice jarred him from his thoughts.  “Each day we choose who we want to be.  This can be by our own actions or by the people we chose to surround ourselves with.  I failed her in that I could not change.  Too petty some would say.  Others would say I’m right.  Regardless, she deserves better.”

Doc cocked an eye up at Bull in a protective challenge.  _Are you better?_  

“As you said, we choose who we are.  Whether by thoughts or actions.  I betrayed my people.  Hundreds died.”

“For her?”  Doc perked up in surprise. 

“No.  At first I thought so.  I did it for me.  It wasn’t until after she’d been kidnapped that I pieced it together.  I didn’t like what they wanted me to be.”  He concentrated on the cool metal tag laying on his chest.  “She…I am happy with **who** I am want to be when I’m with her than **what** the Qun needed me to be.”

Tilting his head a bit more, Doc scrutinized Bull’s entire posture, his face, seeking anything to give him a hint as to his sincerity. 

Thinking on Doc’s frankness, he couldn’t help but be curious, “Why are you telling me all this?” 

“You’re good for her, you know.  I see it.  The guys see it.”

“She doesn’t need me.”

“No.  Praxis can do alright on her own.  Has for years.  Man, she’s a stubborn bitch.”  Doc kicked a rock and watched it come to a rest before finishing.  “But, she wants you.  She’s better with you.”

Doc watched his words settle into Bull’s skull, his gaze searching deeper than Bull thought a man’s eye could.  A lecherous grin sprouted, “You’re not some shoulder to cry on or a dick to ride on.  You’re a person she wants to be with and that rocks your cock more than anything doesn’t it?”

“You need to back off.”  Bull bit his tongue as he forced the words out.  This fucker was getting far too close to home on that one.  He was worse than Cole.  At least Cole’s musings were random.  This mother-fucker had an astounding focus that drilled deep.  Not the kind of interrogator you’d want to sit opposite.   

Z hopped off her truck and jogged up them.  “Hey, what are you two daisies talking about?” 

“Praxis, of course.”  Doc said in an offhand manner, as if she were a topic as trivial as the weather. 

“Speaking of, Rothstein is jumping down her throat.  You may wanna get over there.”

The trio walked with urgency back to the grouping of vehicles.  Everyone was watching the argument unfold between Rothstein and Praxis.  Well, it was more of Rothstein berating Praxis and her waiting to respond when the little bastard decided to take a breath.

Bull, Doc and Z joined the outer ring of people.  Monty leaned back against one of the trucks, the older soldiers were the farthest back from the pair, expressions of irritation were shared among all of them. 

They were ready to move on.  The newer soldiers stood nearby, listening intently and obviously siding with Rothstein.

Bull tapped Monty’s shoulder, “What’s this about?”

Monty gave a brief nod toward the two.  “Your Inquisitor wants to execute the bandits.  Cap’n disagrees.”

Mahanon and Dorian were grouped tight with the Chargers.  Rothstein was irate and no one seemed to be taking any chances that he might do something stupid.  It honestly was inevitable knowing that prick. 

“…bad enough we have involved ourselves to the degree that we have.  I will not allow baseless murder!  What the Hell kind of war criminals are you?!  Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He panted as he stared back at Praxis.  She remained quiet, unphased by his emotional state and accusations.  She did well, her unnaturally long pause made Rothstein fidget and his supporters lose some of their confidence in him.

Praxis tilted her head slightly, “Just **where** do you think you are?  Did you not see the demons falling from the sky?  Did you not see these people try and kill us?”

Rothstein puffed up his chest and raised his voiced.  “That’s no excuse!  Even bandits deserve fair trial.  Your Inquisitor over there has gone mad with power.  He appoints himself judge, jury and executioner!”

“Because he is.”  Deadpan, Praxis spoke calmly with a level tone.  “He is our Judge Dredd.  This is the Mega-City One.  Think on our trip out here.  There were no guards, no soldiers, no one but farmers and field laborers.  Any able bodied man is part of the army.  There is no one left to enforce rule of law out here.  No one but the Inquisitor.”

Baby Doll felt the need to support his captain and cut in despite the doubt in his eyes.  “But those other nobles at the castle, they have soldiers and land and money.  Can’t they do something too?”

Praxis pointed out the obvious, “And they are hiding in the castle because they fear what would happen to them out here.” 

“Bullshit!  All of this!  Here you’re playing God and using any excuse to seize power and abuse it!”  Praxis took two steps back to keep Rothstein’s finger from pressing into her chest. 

Once he’d said his piece, she swatted his hand away, then turned her back to him.  “Come with me.”

“This isn’t over.”

“No.  It’s not.  Come.”  The Chargers parted their ranks to allow the two through.  Looking beyond the group, Bull could see her target.

The farmhouse. 

He’d seen enough of the reports Cullen received concerning scavengers and bandits pillaging the countryside.  Many believed that the end of the world was near and they felt no restrain their feral urges.  The shit they did….

Bull rubbed at his face, mumbling a jumble of ‘fucks’.  Doc took note, then he stepped forward to point at the newer soldiers, “You guys go with them.”

There was some hesitation, but they went. 

Doc waited for the group to be far from earshot.  “It’s a difficult thing for a man to reconcile what he’s been taught to live his whole life with the way others have to live with the cards they’ve been dealt.  In both cases, neither has a choice.  They haven’t seen enough of the world to know that it has to be like this.”  He turned to Mahanon.  “Do what you need to.”

Doc walked up to a truck, opened the heavy door and sat at the threshold, staring off into the night.  The rest found other things to occupy themselves, pointedly avoiding going near or talking to the prisoners.

Mahanon took a deep breath and a step forward. 

Bull chirped in, “Gotta stop ya there Boss.  We’ll handle it.”

Mahanon didn’t move, not until Dorian directed him away from the prisoners.  Skinner, Dalish, and Grimm took the honors.  Bull watched.  His people, his responsibility. It would have been better if they’d been killed in battle.  Instead, they bled out like the scum they were. 

Z was the only one to watch _and_ ask for pointers.  The rest of the soldiers found themselves fascinated with something else.  Executions were definitely not their thing, but they understood the necessity. 

“…assumption that it was them.  How could you know?  How could he know?!”  Rothstein continued to shout at Praxis as the group returned from the farmer’s cottage. 

Rothstein was the only person who lacked a somber expression.  Little weasel didn’t like to be wrong and he sunk his teeth in to only bone he had.  “Why are you defending him?  You were trained to know better!  What is it?  Is bestiality so fucking great that you can’t remember how human beings should act?!”

With lightning speed, Praxis snagged hold of an inconspicuous cord on Rothstein’s vest and jerked.  The entire ensemble – pockets, weapons, radio – all fell to a heap on the ground.  She immediately leapt at the unprotected body and landed a barrage of forceful blows to the man’s gut.

There didn’t seem to be an end in sight until Tran pushed her aside and knelt by the curled up Commander.  “Hey…Cut it out!” 

“You…”  Rothstein wheezed and coughed, searching for the strength to form a full sentence.  “I’ll see you courts martialed for this.”  He spit blood at her but it didn’t hit its mark. 

“You shut the fuck up.  I’m already under charges for desertion, now it’s on like Donkey Kong.  Grimm, secure our prisoner.  You are in Inquisition custody now.”

Baby Doll turned in shock at Praxis, “You can’t do that!”

Doc gave an indifferent frown.  “I think she just did.”

“And you’re…all of you are going to let this happen?  We don’t have another officer,” Rothstein spit a few times as he looked up at Doc, “are you really going to let this happen just so you can take command of the unit?!”

“No.  I don’t do command – not my bag.”

There was a pause, the silence was awkward for a bit.  Then it was telling.  Rothstein went mad the moment Grimm snatched his hands to tie them up.  “YOU CAN’T LET HER TAKE COMMAND!  SHE HAS BEEN REMOVED OF DUTY!  SHE’S A FUCKING TRAITOR! NO!  **NO!!** ”

Praxis shouted after him, “When you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.  Chew on that.” 

Her chest puffed when she took a deep, steading breath.  She wasn’t ready for this, but she was going to make it happen.  “Some of you know me and how I work.  For you new people, I joke a lot but I don’t fuck around.  You’ve seen the dangers this world faces, the atrocities that have occurred.  These battles are not about supporting the schemes of a government or even one man.”  She looked pointedly at Mahanon.  “All these people want, is to survive.  This world is on the brink of the Apocalypse and there is only one army who _dares_ to stand in its way.”

Shady noisily picked at his teeth.  “You know, you do sound a bit crazy when you say it like that.”

Pete shuddered as he shook his head, “You didn’t see what those bandits did.  That whole family…”

Shady waved a hand to stop any details from spilling out.  “I’ve seen enough of the worst of mankind to have an idea of what you saw.”  He then swept his hands over the whole group, “I just want all of y’all to know that this shit is going to sound crazy when we report it back home.”

Risky chuckled and patted at his gear, “I’m ready.  Let’s fucking do this.  Not every day that the bad guys are obviously demons.”

“Objections to Praxis taking command?”  Doc pointed his finger at each person in turn.  Some nodded with enthusiasm, others with reservation.  Tran, Sam, and Z didn’t seem to give a fuck.

At the unanimous decision, Praxis stepped forward.  “Alright.  Let the record show that all members objected and were coerced into serving under me.  Inquisitor, at your order, we’ll proceed to Amaranthine.”

Slightly confused, Mahanon took a second to think over what he wanted next.  “We need to burn the bodies before we leave.  It’s a right they barely deserve.”

“Your Worship?”  Stitches raised his hand to be seen from the back of the crowd.  “What do we tell Ms high-an-mighty?”

 _Ah shit._ Bull rolled his eye.  They forgot about the fucking Orlesian traveling with them who had a boner for Rothstein.

_Well, this won’t be fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. I'm in my final class for my masters and things have been super busy. Don't worry, I won't abandon the fic for those still following. :)


	9. Going out with a Bang (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen welcomes the new arrivals and plans are set in place for a night time assault. Praxis and Bull take Kitty on a test flight.

 

Arriving in Amaranthine, Bull got his first glimpse of the change that came with Praxis taking over for Rothstein.  She had donned one of their uniforms, giant pockets and all.  The team’s banter became laced with more profanity and crude remarks.  Rank was dropped entirely.  None of them acted with the rigid professionalism that Rothstein’s presence enforced.  Bull reveled in the familiarity of it – the lax attitude that reeked of confidence.  They didn’t have to act like professionals, they fucking knew they were good at their work and didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought.

Cullen and Hawke met them outside the main camp.  Both of their mounts were sweaty from the hard pace they had to meet them before they tried entering the camp.  Undoubtedly the scouts reporting their arrival had ran just as fast, but there was nothing that compared to the trucks’ speed. 

The main players gathered to discuss the way forward. 

“Your Worship, Commandant, if you sent word, you have arrived ahead of the notice.”  Cullen wore a warm smile.  Happy.  A little smug.

Glancing at Hawke, Bull found his source.  They were banging.  No question.  It also didn’t help that Hawke stared openly stunned at the team’s arrival.   Bull looked back at the odd assortment of soldiers and vehicles.  He gave Hawke a firm pat on the back, “Yeah, confused the piss outta me too, but they’ve really got some cool shit.”

“Cullen said that these were her people, from her homeland…I never thought.  Ha, I really thought I’d seen everything.”

Bull’s hand lingered on Hawke’s shoulder.  A sixth sense turned Bull’s eye to Praxis who openly scowled at him while Mahanon explained the situation to Cullen.  She crossed her arms over her chest and Bull delicately removed his hand from Hawke. 

Secure in the knowledge that Bull wasn’t getting overly friendly with the Champion, she turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, adding her piece on taking over command. 

Bull whispered to Hawke.  “You train Kitty with her don’t you?  What she pissed about?  Forget the beasts favorite treat or something?”

“No.  Just because we train together doesn’t mean I have to like her.”  Hawke rolled his eyes, chalking the shared animosity to childishness. 

Bull was more than skeptical, “What’d she do to piss you off?  Thought you’d enjoy working with a dragon.”

“Oh I do.  It’s great.  It’s her…she locked me in a room with Cole for an entire night.  Kid wouldn’t shut up.”  A tremor of a growl laced Hawke’s words.  He was certainly bitter about the experience.

Bull chuckled, “I’m sure you didn’t deserve it either.  Did you?”

“Fuck you.”  The acerbic remark and Hawke’s open sneer drew Cullen’s attention. 

A reproving squint of the eyes put Hawke back in line.  The gruff man swallowed whatever insult he had prepared and remained silent for the rest of the meeting.  By the end, Cullen agreed to have the trucks parked near the command post at Praxis’ suggestion and with Mahanon’s support. 

It was a slow process getting them through the camp.  There were already cart paths, but in many places they were too narrow for the trucks to pass.  The other obstacle they dealt with were the throng of on-lookers.  All activity within the camp stopped as they made their way through.  Praxis requested that Mahanon ride with the gunner in the front vehicle so that even from a distance, there was no question as to the newcomers’ alliance. 

Once they reached the designated spot, Praxis called out to her team, “Alright, everyone dismount and button up the trucks.  We have a meeting in ten.” 

Mahanon jumped down from his truck to join her side, “Meeting?  What do you have planned?  We haven’t discussed anything yet.”

“I know it’s a rush, but please, trust me.”  Praxis tapped Cullen’s gauntlet, “Commander, could you find someone to keep our Orlesian guest busy?  We’ll also need to have Rothstein put under guard as well.”

She kept moving, her mind running a mile a minute as the group headed for the Command tent.  Mahanon followed, but looked to Bull for some insight as to what Praxis had in mind. 

Bull quirked his head at his Boss, “Isn’t it obvious?”

When Mahanon’s confusion didn’t clear, Bull offered a supportive grin, “Don’t worry Boss.  This will probably be for the best.”

The inside of the Command tent afforded a large open space.  Some small tables were moved to the side to accommodate the new arrivals.  Cullen’s map table was the only one to remain untouched.  One by one, everyone trickled in.  The entire crew created rings around the map table, giving Cullen their full attention.

The Commander of the Inquisition gave a full account of recent events. 

It was just as dire as Leliana implied. 

The city was surrounded by a mountain range which meant that there was only one access point by land.  Approaching from the sea was out of the question, even if there weren’t ships sitting just outside the harbor, the Inquisition didn’t have a navy. 

They were well and truly fucked.

Praxis’ people did a decent job of paying attention, only one or two nodding off only to be jarred awake by the person next to ‘em. 

Praxis remained standing for the entire briefing.  Waiting.  She took over the floor when Cullen finished his summary. 

“The Venatori have control of the ports, your scouts report that they are ready to push for an offense.  They outnumber the Inquisition 3 to 1.  So, Commander, what’s your plan?” 

Cullen took a deep breath and presented the only option that the Inquisition had – take up a defensive stance and hope for the best.

“Are you fucking crazy?!”  Risky pointed to the terrain map.  “They have control of the high ground and can pound down on you guys without mercy from these two ridge lines.  It’s just a waiting game for them.  They fucking have you!”

Cullen pointed at the same area on the map, “We can’t budge them from these points and yes, the archers and trebuchets entrenched there will make fighting harder.  The alternative is try taking the city which is suicide.”

“Your first plan is suicide, pendejo.”  Z stood up as she offered her criticism.

“The entrance to the city is a bottleneck and would have our men cut down before stepping foot in city limits.  It’d be a pointless slaughter.”  Cullen pointed out the obvious fallacy of the second suggestion.

This briefing made Praxis team uncomfortable, just as Praxis had planned.  Sometimes people needed a little push to get on the right path.  She let the itchy quiet sit in the tent for a moment before striking the final blow.

“Rogers, Altman, you two are Civil Affairs right?  What data have you collected so far?”

All eyes followed the direction of her question to land on the two soldiers that had disappeared with Rothstein when they first arrived at Skyhold.

Rogers, as the name tag claimed, cleared his throat and began talking as he pulled out a tablet to provide supporting information.  “When Praxis says this world is falling apart, it’s no room for exaggeration.  Ten years ago hectares of land to the South were poisoned from a war with darkspawn – a different kind of demon.  Think of them as Hell’s minions.  Thousands died and the land is unusable for anything due to what these people call ‘the taint’ – no grazing, no farming, no mining, just – nothing.  Fast forward to today.  Demons are popping out of the sky in every populated area on the map.  As a point of reference, demons are worse than darkspawn because they are independent and powerful – think fucking Freddy Krueger and Hellraiser.  Entire villages are being wiped out or whole communities have to pack up and leave.  The majority of these people are farmers.  Without land, without security, there is no means for them to provide for their family.  It’s such a specific skill set, that they _can’t_ do anything else.”

Altman provided her piece, “Now we get to the part on malnourishment.  I’ll spare you some of the more horrifying details, and just leave you with this: babies are being weened as soon as possible because nursing mothers can’t stay fed well enough to produce milk.  If we move on to the army, shit.  They are better fed than the refugees, but not by much.  There’s a reason the Inquisition is partnered with those nobles, they need the coin to purchase foreign food to keep people from dying on their feet.”

“We tried to buy as much local as we can, but there just isn’t enough.”  Rogers read the data from his tablet, “About 30% comes from across the ocean.  Arms and armor we can get entirely local, but we had to include some orders with the food so the deals would go through.  Merchants make more off of weapons than perishable goods.” 

Praxis crossed her arms and spoke solemnly.  “This shit’s been going on for over a year.  Even before that, things were in the crapper with pockets of civil war breaking out, so honestly, this whole continent has been living in constant shit for over a decade.”  She paused and scanned her audience, the more senior soldiers absorbing the information differently than the newer ones.  “We all have seen how this can go for the civilians.  No one deserves that.”

The younger ones understood what was said, perhaps had heard stories, but the older ones – there was a unique glaze to their eyes.  They had seen it, first hand.  Regardless, there was a palpable cord of unison weaving itself among the team. 

Recognizing she hadn’t sold everyone on the idea yet, she pushed once more.  “Commander, what is the youngest age you would say is in the Inquisition army?  Soldiers who see the front lines?”

Cullen shifted his weight uncomfortably, he glanced at Mahanon then back at Praxis.  They both knew the answer.  Shit, the whole Inquisition knew, but no one talked about it. 

“Fourteen.”  Stated Cullen firmly.  Bull pressed his lips in a thin line.  Fourteen might be the youngest on the frontlines, but there were plenty much younger that were still close to the fighting doing other jobs supporting their efforts. 

This set off an explosion of outrage from the entire group, aside from the civil affairs pair.  They’d apparently already discovered this little gem of information.  They jumped to their feet all shouting over one another, some directing it toward Cullen, others toward Praxis, with an equal amount of dark glares and harsh words tossed at the Boss. 

Praxis poked two fingers in her mouth to set off a piercing whistle to regain order.  “Calm down.  I know what your thoughts are, don’t you think I haven’t had the same?  Yes, this is bullshit.  But, this is what’s going on here.”

Hawke gestured to Z, “I don’t why that doesn’t sit well with you, look at her!  How old are you?  Seventeen?  Not much of a difference.  These soldiers are doing the only thing they have power over to protect their families.”

Praxis was quick to correct Hawke, perhaps a more harshly than necessary.  “Z is twenty-eight.”

Doing a double take, Hawke then stared wide-eyed at Praxis, “How…what, then how the fuck old are you?!”

“Thirty-two.  Why?”

Hawke crossed his arms with a roll his eyes.  “Well that explains a lot.  Couldn’t believe some fucking kid could pull all this off.”

“Hawke, what are you talking about?”  Praxis turned to Cullen seeking answers.

Cullen was more composed, but also surprised at her answer, “He, well, we all thought you were younger.”

She laughed at his response, then nudged Bull, “You too?  Upset you’re stuck with an old lady?”

“No, of course not.  Just means you’re that much closer to forty.  I’ll find a good merchant and trade you in for two twenties.”

She smacked him in the stomach with the back of her hand as her team sniggered openly.  “Alright you assholes, back to the task at hand.  I wanted you all to understand what the Inquisition is faced with so you know why I’m asking this of you.”

“Ah.  There it is.”  Doc laughed as he said it.

Praxis ignored him.  “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.  This is reality – it’s here regardless of how you fucking feel.”

 

“Hey, man, fuck those cocksuckers!”  Risky spit his response like a venom from a snake, pointing vaguely in the direction of the port city.

Biscuit spit at the ground, “This is horse shit.  I say we jerk their fucking chain and straighten their shit out.”

“Wait, are you suggesting that we involve ourselves in this?”  Pete’s eyes darted around, uncertain, which drew everyone’s attention until he finally conceded, “I suppose it’s a little easier to choose sides when you’re fighting actual monsters.”

“You damn right I am.  Each one of us knows that we can take these guys and save a Hell of a lot of people in the process, however, if anyone who wants out, say so now.”  Praxis voice deepened as she punctuated each word, “There will absolutely be no harassment towards anyone who chooses to back out.  This is volunteer only.  No fucking around, you hear me?  I swear to fucking God and all that is holy if I hear any shit talking I will punch you so damn hard you’ll be shitting your teeth.”

There were a few giggles, but no one withdrew.  This development had Praxis standing taller and grinning wider.  A chord of pride ran through her words when she spoke.  “Alright then.  Let’s get to the plan.  I’m sure some of you already have an idea of where I want to go with this…”

Bull assumed that Praxis was going to suggest that her team help the Inquisition by joining forces.  He was only partially correct.

When it became apparent she intended to have her team do nearly all the work with only some backup from the Chargers, Mahanon jumped in with his protestations. “You can’t be serious.  This is impossible not to mention suicidal.”  He turned to Cullen for support and found none.

“Inquisitor…I’ve seen what they can do, not in an urban setting, granted, but I would trust her judgement in this.  Praxis wouldn’t throw men’s lives away.”

Bull made a point to not look at Doc after Cullen’s assertion. 

She had once.

But she’s not that person any longer.  She _will_ not throw lives away.

Mahanon gave a heavy sigh.  Bull had to admit that he agreed with the Boss, this entire plan sounded crazy, even by his standards. 

Rubbing at his face, Mahanon struggled to let go of control, “Praxis, are you…yes, of course you’re sure.  By the Creators, this is insane.  Alright, then would you kindly explain how will you handle the defensive points camped out on the ridgeline?” 

“We’ll break up into two small insertion teams, use the gunners’ harnesses to strap on to Kitty and do an air drop.  They’ll never expect it.”

A handful of her team chuckled while stating in unison, “ **No one expects the Inquisition!** ”

Mahanon tilted his head to the side where Dorian had remained quiet for the entire briefing.  “Dorian, tell me that I’m not the only one who thinks this is crazy.”

With a firm hand on his shoulder, Dorian offered the only reassurance he could.  “We’re facing the end of the world.  What isn’t crazy anymore, Amatus?  I agree with Cullen, we should go with Praxis’ plan.”

Mahanon gave a slight shake of his head in defeat, “Alright, the Inquisition will support your plan.”

Monty stepped forward as he tapped the fingertips of his right hand against the palm of his left.  “Hey, hey, wait now.  Roll back.  Tell me how we’re supposed to do this air drop?  Who’s Kitty?”

Bull felt like being an ass, so he stole the moment from Praxis, “Kitty is her pet dragon.”

The entire team leapt to their feet.  Excitement burst from each one as they all spoke over one another.

“Where is it?”

“How big is it?”

“Can we pet it?”

“Can we ride it?”

The untamed eagerness was reminiscent of children unable to control themselves in a candy shop. 

“Easy guys!  Alright, we’ll go see Kitty then we need to get to work.  Risky.  Sam.  Get some recon with as many pictures as you can manage, especially of their forces so we can get an idea of what these bastards look like.  Civilians too if we can manage.  Work with Cullen since he he’ll know where to start using his scout reports.”  She patted Bull on the arm, “The Bull, have the Chargers get some rest, my team will take care of all the planning.”

“Rest?  Now?”

“Yes, we hit them tonight.”  Praxis answered as if this were an easy matter.  As if they hadn’t spent the past twelve hours awake on top of being awake for the entire day prior.

Bull shot her a skeptical look, “I take it you have some of your own magical crap to ensure my guys can see in the dark?” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything.”  She blew him a kiss then addressed her team, “Follow me if you want to see the dragon.”

 

At the makeshift corral they met with Frederic who was ecstatic to be around people of his ilk.  The regular soldiers in the army tended to shy away from Kitty, even after her successful training sessions.  Praxis left him to answer any questions.  He gave demonstrations with a little whistle which prompted Kitty to act in a certain manner depending on how he blew.

Doc came up to Praxis, his mind still mulling over their plans for the night.  “Why the rush?  If we do it tonight, we’ll have to use ‘go’ pills.  It’d be better to do it tomorrow.”

“Odds are they already know we’re here and we can’t allow them enough time to reorganize and change anything.  If we’re going to use the information that Cullen’s scouts have gathered, it’s got to be tonight.”

Doc and Praxis hashed it out as Bull focused on one aspect of the conversation.  He waited for Doc to walk off before asking her about it. 

“Are you going to take the pills Doc mentioned?”

“I have to.”  When Bull grabbed her arm, she turned on him sharply.  “Don’t argue with me.  This is going to happen.  I’m not sleeping!”

She bared her teeth and her chest heaved.  Not from exhaustion.  From pain.  “Kadan…”  He reached for her cheek and felt the tremor in her jaw before she pulled away. 

Pinching her eyes shut, fighting back her emotions that burned raw and hot beneath the surface.  Her head fell back as she inhaled fiercely.  After an explosive burst of air, she faced him once more. 

“Come with me.”

She took him by the hand and led him into Kitty’s corral.  “Okay guys, shows’ over.  Bull and I are going to take Kitty on some practice flights, I’ll be back for the recon debrief.”  She patted at one of her pockets.  “Radio me if anything changes.” 

She and Frederic strapped on a special saddle crafted just for the majestic beast.  Instead of saddle bags, she attached a two-handed sword with a blunted edge intended for the practice ring.  Praxis gave no other instructions, only thanking Frederic before motioning for Bull to mount the dragon with her. 

Decades of training screamed at him to stay away.  Logic raged that it was a terrible idea. 

_This is how you will die._

Grasping the leather straps, he pulled himself up with staunch conviction. 

_I trust her._

While Praxis worked the reins and prepping for the flight, Bull buckled his legs against Kitty’s back.  The saddle could only accommodate two, and he wondered briefly how Praxis planned to get her whole team up to the ridgeline. 

His line of thought cut off the second Kitty rustled her wings.  A few testing flaps and a wiggle of her shoulders indicated she was ready. 

“Never had to ride bitch before.”  Bull looked for something, any kind of topic to take his mind off what they were about to do.  His stomach wrenched into impossible knots.  He couldn’t understand how Praxis was so relaxed.  She was perfectly at ease, as though she had been born to ride dragons. 

“Hold me.”  She spoke over her shoulder, then waited. 

It wasn’t an instruction.  It was a plea. 

He only wrapped one arm around her waist.  He’d be damned if he was going to let go of the side pommel provided for the back rider.  Praxis hung Frederic’s borrowed whistle around her neck then used it to give the first signal. 

Kitty lurched forward and beat her wings forcefully, jerking her riders around a bit.  Dirt, pebbles, and leaves were caught up in the current from her powerful strokes.  She was unsteady at first, but the higher she rose, the less effort she put into the feat.

Another whistle from Praxis and they began their journey… **through the fucking sky!**

Kitty weaved from side to side, her claws brushing against the treetops playfully.  Bull focused on counting the duration of his breaths – long deep inhales, slow exhales.  Kitty felt buoyant in the air, like a small dingy on the sea.  Looking straight down made his head ache, but looking far out to the horizon, to the beyond, he found his calm. 

He felt Praxis laughing.  She must have noticed the release of his tension.  He regretted pinching her sides when it caused her to pull on the reins and sent Kitty careening to the left sharply. 

“Up! UP! **UP!** ”  Strangely enough, Bull never thought he’d ever say those words, but smacking into the ground wasn’t his idea of landing either. 

Praxis tugged on the reins and Kitty corrected her course.  Bull looked at the way ahead of them and cringed. 

“Not over the sea.”  He had to bend close to her ear to fight the howling wind.

Praxis pointed to the shore and shouted, but he couldn’t hear.  All he cared about was getting back on the ground, alive and not all broken from falling through the trees.

Kitty circled a large clear area on the beach twice before choosing a spot to land.  Her wings made the salty moist air buffet against Bull’s skin.  He felt her body weight shift as it settled on the ground.  A thudding tremor coursed through him and the world felt right once more. 

Praxis quickly unbuckled her leg straps and practically leapt from the dragon’s back, giggling the entire journey down to the sand.

“This funny to you?  How about I use that practice sword on your ass, hmm?”  Bull thrust the last of the straps to the side and jumped down, careful to account for his bad knee. 

Praxis gazed up at him lovingly.  Handing over the blunted blade, her smile faded a little.  "The Bull, I've always assumed, but I have to ask.  Does it bother you that I fight back?  I know how a sub is supposed to act, but sometimes…I just feel…I need…"

“Kadan, it’s fine, more than fine.  I wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t give me a hard time.  It’d be disrespectful to have you cower beneath me.  No.  You need to fight.  It is who you are.”

Praxis jump into his arms and he caught her, dropping the sword to keep a firm grip.  With breathless kisses, she devoured him.  She held on to his neck as if he were the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground. 

Just as she was sucking on his tongue, she broke off in a fit of laughter, “Haha!  Aren’t you getting excited!”

She grinded her hips against his, a welcome pressure to his growing erection.  He answered her in a soft moan, the words dancing playfully off his tongue.  “What did you thing was going to happen with you acting like that?” 

Bull set her back on the ground then leaned forward as if to kiss her, but at the last second veered sharply to bite into her neck.  She hissed in repressed pain then purred a throaty moan once his tongue licked at the raw indentions.  He coiled his arms tighter around her waist and she melted.  He loved the weight of her body.  The imbalance of her prosthetics gave her a uniqueness that he treasured. 

"My beautiful Spitfire, every time I see your strength, I have a grin on my face and a hot, wet cock in my hand."  A surge of lust rushed through him as he thought of the possibilities on the isolated beach.  He needed her.  “Fight me.  Fucking fight me and I’ll pin you down and take you right here.”

Praxis pulled away with a wicked grin, but not before tapping at his neck twice.  A fresh thrill set Bull licking his lips in anticipation of a new ‘game’. 

She laughed while skipping further out onto the beach.  "C’mon big guy.  Claim me if you can catch me!" 

Once at a spot she liked, she pulled out her whistle and blew.  Kitty's head perked up, watched her hand signal, then took to the sky.  She circled low, moving up and down as she found her rhythm.  Then she attacked.

Diving, her claw snatched at Bull but missed when he tucked and rolled away.  He scrambled to his feet, his body instinctively took up a guarded defensive position in anticipation. 

Kitty swooped up to loop back for another attempt.  This time he knew her plan.  He'd seen it before, the flare of the nostrils and the squint of the eyes.  This was going to be a fire strike.  He bided his time, waiting for the last second – that special gurgle before the flicker of fire - he spun and leapt to safety away from the line of fire Kitty blazes across the sand.

Had it been any other man, the explosive pace of his heart would have been in fear.  But he, **_he_** was the Iron Fucking Bull.  His raging hard on stole all thought from his mind save one.

“I will conquer you!”

Her beautiful, light laugh mingled with the sea’s waves until she yelled back, “Let’s go big man!  Come at me bro!”

“You think you’re fucking cute don’t you?!”  It was hard to sound menacing when he was grinning from ear-to-ear.  He squeezed the pommel of the sword as he held it high.  Scanning the sky for Kitty, he felt that she was due for another attack. 

He yelled at Praxis without facing her.  “I will cut down your dragon, ram you up against the corpse, then pound my fat cock in your ass.  What do you think about that?”

She didn’t answer.  He waited but there was nothing.  Mildly assured he had some time, he spared a glance at Praxis to find out what could possibly draw her attention away from him. 

In that short time, she had removed all of her clothing.  She sat on a large boulder, legs wide as she fingered herself slowly.  She stared at him with her lips parted perfectly, in that magical way that begged for them to be filled.  Her left hand massaged her breasts, the pert nipples filtered through her fingers.  When she caught him staring, she smiled slowly then tilted her head down as her hand fluffed up her tit.  She gave the supple flesh a long swipe of her tongue.  Although too far to hear, his memory filled in the lusty moan he knew she uttered. 

The scene and mental sound sent a bolt of passion piercing through his cock.  The need for sex crackled under his skin.  His lungs felt pinched in a vice.  Topping it all off, Praxis blew the whistle once more.  Kitty landed perfectly behind her, sitting like an ornament on a throne.  At a hand signal, Kitty’s head swooped low to sweep in front of Praxis a release a protective, hellacious roar.  With a slow roll of the spine, Kitty brought her head back over her shoulders before letting out a final snort of smoke that wafted in scrolling black and grey tendrils. 

Bull would never admit to anyone, not even Praxis that in that moment, he came a little.

“I think you better get to me before I decide to take care of myself without you.”

“No you **_don’t!_** ”  Bull charged forward which set Kitty into action.  She jumped over Praxis and snapped at Bull before bounding back into the air.  Bull was slightly disappointed to realize that Kitty was pulling back her attacks, but then again, it wasn’t as if he would actually kill her with a blunted sword anyway.

Well, of course he _could_ , he just knew he shouldn’t.

He rushed at Praxis, blade held steady, _oh,_ was she going to get it.  In the mouth, in the ass…she was going to _really_ take it.  Bull sprinted, knowing the easiest way to stop the dragon attacks was to claim her.  As he got close, she had the whistle in mouth, ready. 

A series of tweets brought Kitty swooshing down, snapping and clawing at him.  Even with his sword at the ready, the dragon was large enough to knock him down.  He bounded back up on bended knee to keep his mass low to the ground.  This time when Kitty rounded on him he landed blows which sent her screeching high into the air. 

Not wasting any time, he tore across the sand.  He hated running in sand, each step forward sank backward under his weight.  He’d never worked so hard for a piece of ass in his life. 

Reaching Praxis, he plunged his sword into the sand and scooped her up in his arms.  The sand he’d kicked up as he ran stuck to his sweaty skin and grated against her like sandpaper.  She squirmed delectably in his arms, then her eyes darted over to the pile of clothes she ditched.  A coil of her favorite red rope sat on top. 

Bull had to laugh, “All those damn pockets and that’s what you choose to carry?”

“A girl has to have her priorities.”

“And her place.”  With a firm grunt, he flipped Praxis upside down.  Her indignant scream caused Kitty to roar in response. 

Praxis’ thighs held on to his thick neck while her hands made quick work of his belt.  Freeing his pulsing cock, her arms shot around his waist and her mouth began worshiping his cock.    She couldn’t do much in the way of sucking it, but she did lick and suckle as best she could from the acrobatic position. 

Bull took up a guarded stance with feet spread apart, waiting.  He could do this, she wasn’t too distracting.

Praxis adjusted her legs to hook behind his horns which caused her to inch lower.  Her lips courted his taint, massaging, pulling, pressing.

Bending his knees, gave her more space to work, which wasn’t intentional, they almost gave out from under him from the rush of desire that jolted through his core. 

Then there was the sweet, moist smell from her perfect pussy that rested just below his face.  Not only was all of this for his pleasure, to fulfill a wild ass fantasy, but she reveled in it as much as he did and was turned on by it. 

Now, _that_ was distracting. 

“Incoming!”  Taking heed of his warning, Praxis peeled her lips from his body and held on tight, tucking her face in the crease of his thigh and pelvis. 

Incapable of running, Bull was forced to take up a defensive stance.  Kitty pulled out the stops for this pass.  She used her wings, her claws and even attempted to head-butt Bull into submission. 

Each time he beat her back his body hummed with elation.  Every swing of his sword sent his cock and balls slapping into Praxis face.  The sensitive skin registered her gleeful smile. 

Kitty reared back and spit fire nearby, intentionally missing but hitting close enough to keep Bull on his toes.  Kitty jumped back into the sky, flying just out of sight beyond the trees. 

Bull used the opening to drop Praxis down, then forced her to her knees.  “Damn, **_damn!_** _”_

Coherent thought was out of his grasp, his erection had been beating against her face for too long and he needed it sucked.  Hard.  He grabbed Praxis by the hair and stuffed her face with his cock.  She adjusted the angle of her head to her throat and opened wide – a fun trick she figured out a while back.  Bull slid into his home deep in her throat.  Each trust required he backed out fully so he could gasp for air.  Her cheeks burned red and the slobbery mess that oozed from her mouth was intoxicating to witness. 

“Yes, _oh fuck yeah_.”  Just feeling that bit of friction was enough to help clear his head to focus on the dot in the sky which slowly grew bigger. 

With the precious little time he had, he allowed his eye to swim in his skull, savoring the way he wedged into her constricted throat.  Peeking down, he pulled out slow to watch her lips bump over his bulging veins.  At the tip, she puckered up to place a sweet kiss that drew out a long string of precum that dangled from her mouth. 

With his fingers still fisted in her hair, he tilted her up to have their eyes meet.  He must have hesitated since she used this moment to bring her whistle to her mouth and blow.

Bull tossed her to the side to take up his sword once more.  Free of his cock holster, he had greater freedom of movement to take on the dragon.  He needed to end the fight and fuck his Kadan.  Otherwise his dick might explode from the build-up. 

When Kitty descended down on him this time, he was ready.  He mapped out all the tender spots, then waited.  Claws wide open, Kitty tried to pounce on him.  Bull ducked and weaved to have his sword drive into every soft spot he could reach.  Seeing the dragon recoil and screech sent a fresh rush of adrenaline through his blood.  As Kitty staggered, he worked his way out from under the belly to spin around to the neck.  There he landed the ‘killing’ blow. 

Praxis watched as the steel met dragon scale and provided the right hand signal to have Kitty play dead.  After an exaggerated wail, Kitty tossed her head to the ground and remained silent. 

Sitting on her knees, Praxis beamed up at Bull but he did not return it.  She sobered, the smile fell as he slowly approached her.  Each step has him removing a piece of armor, a piece of clothing.  His expression never softened. 

“You think just because you command a dragon you can do as you will?”  Even saying the words sent pulses through his raging boner, cum dripped profusely onto the sand.  Command and control of a fucking dragon.  By the time he reached Praxis, all he had to do was kick off his boots to be fully naked.  After doing so, he bent to one knee and picked up the much loved red rope.  Bull pulled it through his hands in a threatening gesture.  He felt the texture of the rope change under his fingers, some lengths were worn thinner from countless knots over the past few months. 

“All that raw power…”  He took her delicately by the throat and they rose together.  “…and now it’s mine to tame.” 

When he released her, he nudged her toward the ‘corpse’.  As she walked he began looping the cord around her arms, twining them together behind her back.  Praxis stopped at Kitty’s breast area, where the neck, wing, and front leg intersected. 

Hands tied, her back landed roughly against the gleaming scales when Bull shoved her.  Her head rebounded.  The jolt put a smirk on her face. 

“Open your mouth.”  He reached for the whistle that dangled from her neck.  The tip of her tongue darted out to meet the thin metal before she pinched it with her lips. 

Bull analyzed his rope work that crisscrossed over Praxis’ arms and torso.  It was loose and sloppy but he’d been in a hurry.  It’d have to do.

“You’re gonna keep that in your mouth and do as I say.” 

She nodded then schooled her expression to one of obedience.  He ran his fingers over her jaw, down her neck then off to the side to rest on Kitty.  The overlapping scales slid under his touch as the animal breathed.  Closing his eye, he inhaled and let his mind drift. 

Charred wood, molten sand, the hot sticky reptile smell – all of it assaulted his senses.  In a near trance, he looked down on Praxis who waited for his command. 

He pointed at Kitty’s head, “Over here.”

The dragon obeyed. 

“Open.”  When the dragon did as commanded, Bull reached in to the mouth to swipe his hands over the tongue.  He gave a curt nod to let the beast know he was done and she laid her head back in the sand a small way away from them.

With dripping hands, Bull’s attention honed in on Praxis.  His right hand went straight for his cock.  His knees actually fucking buckled this time.  He braced himself by slapping his left hand on Praxis breast.  His vision blurred and all that existed in the world was his cock and his slick hand.  He squeezed himself firmly in slow, long strokes.  The dragon saliva was thicker than a person’s.  It stayed warm and clung fiercely to his balls.  It was easy to feel the large droplets form before they fell to the ground.  It was the best masturbation ointment imaginable, better than anything he’d ever bought. 

A shake of his head cleared the fuzziness from his vision.  He flexed his fingers to play with the firmness of her breast then his hand traveled over her plump flesh to the other breast, spreading the dragon slick over her body. 

It took all of his willpower to hold back and keep his right hand from rushing his climax. 

Leaning forward, he bit into the tip of her breast, his tongue lapped at her nipple.  A shiver shot through her body then the dragon let out a roar which faded into a rumbling growl in the back of the throat.  The growl vibrated through Praxis’ body and beneath his hand making Bull’s toes curl.

Bull’s head dropped against Praxis’ sternum as he came, spilling himself all over her feet.  It was unconscious and unexpected.  His knees finally gave out and he finished with the last of it dripping down his leg.  Panting like dog, he wheezed, gasping to find enough air. 

Never before had he felt so much like a wild beast, especially when he found that he was still hard.  More, his body demanded more. 

Standing, he thrust his cock up in Praxis, lifting her off the ground.  Her back slid easily against Kitty’s scales.  Praxis wrapped her legs around his waist and he braced his hands on the dragon skin.  Closing his eye, Bull used an old Ben-Hassrath trick to focus his mind. 

The commands from the whistle faded.  The sounds of the dragon were all that filled his head.  Even though dragon scales were some tough shit, they held a unique flexible quality which enabled him to feel the muscles moving underneath.

Testing, he gave a sway of his hips.  His cock sank deeper into Praxis’ wet, wanton folds and the dragon responded – two flaps of the wings then a humming growl that clicked out over sharp teeth. 

He thrust again, harder.  This time Kitty’s head swayed and her feet pawed at the air, clutching and uncurling.

Just like a pleasured lover.

There wasn’t much left to the imagination to lead him to the ultimate fantasy of fucking a dragon.

Laying his forearms flat, Bull buried his head in the crook of Praxis neck and shoulder.  He alternated between biting and suckling on her tender flesh with fervent kisses and licking the dragon skin just beyond.  It was hot, so unbelievably hot.  And dirty.  And sexy. 

Another punch of his prick into Praxis sent juices squirting out and around him, coating his balls and streaming down his leg.  This time a fireball was demanded in response to Praxis’ pleasure. 

Bull’s mind was flitting between the reality of what they were doing and the fantasy of fucking a dragon and here was his love, his Kadan enjoying it just as much as he was. 

“Ataashi…. _ataashi..._ ”  ‘Glorious ones.’  The hard strength of the animal beneath him drove him to the brink of madness. 

With a small pang of reluctance, Bull lowered himself, easing the two of them down. He lay on his back, Praxis straddled his waist. 

“Ataashi, fuck me.  _Oh -_ fuck me good.”  He pulled on the release for her bindings.  As soon as they fell, her hands slapped down on his chest and her fingernails clawed into him harshly.  He bucked up into the pain, his back arching and his hands holding on for dear life, digging into her thighs. 

She dragged her nails over his flesh while her hips rhythmically glided up and down his shaft.  She was so tight that when she rose, it pulled at his foreskin salaciously.  When she slammed down, the squishing splat was lewd and arousing.  Pinpricks of lust bust along the inside of his spine like lit gaatlock powder.  The passion between them was raw and forceful.  Heat, sweat, and sexual fluids ravaged their joined bodies. 

Kitty suddenly rose to her feet and pawed at the ground apprehensively.  Praxis had changed her tempo to keep him deep.  The head of his cock pressed hard against her walls as she rocked in the telltale manner he’s grown to love.  As her climax built, Kitty became more anxious, beating her wings intermittently. 

Deep, hitched breaths struggled around her clenched teeth which refused to drop the whistle.  She was on the edge, she was ready to cum and Bull wanted to push her over that cliff.  He slapped Praxis’ ass hard with both hands.  The last blow of the whistle sent Kitty bounding in circles around them.  The ground trembled and the excited screeching rattled the insides of Bull’s ears. 

At the same time, Bull felt the tug in his sac as he dumped his second load in his Kadan.  This wasn’t some sissy-ass second orgasm.  This one was just as rich as the first as it gushed from him into the confined space.  It fucking pulled at his entire insides and sent goosebumps crawling all over his body.  Shuddering in small convulsions, he thought he saw black dots pass over his vision. 

Praxis collapsed on his chest, then rolled off and landed in the sand with a thud.  He turned on his side to chide her, “Kadan, you’re going to regret that.”

She looked up at him in a daze.  Her pupils were blown and her eyelids fluttered slowly.  “I regret nothing.”  She closed her eyes and enjoyed the waning rush of her orgasm.  Bull brushed at some sand that was close to her eyes.  “Did you like it?  I hope the whistle wasn’t too annoying, but I didn’t know of another way…”

Bull cut her off with a kiss.  She smelled heavy of sex and tasted like wet desire.  He spoke low while his lips danced over hers, “I never heard it.  How long have you been planning this?” 

She chuckled, “Oh, a little while.  I had planned on more, even a lovely dress to wear.”

In the quiet that followed, Bull checked the markings he’d left on her, probing some of the meaner looking ones.  Praxis tried to hide it, but some of them were a bit rougher than he liked.  “You need to see Stitches when we get back.”

“Yes, Ser.”  She reached for him with both arms.  “Hold me.”

She curled into his embrace and they lay together, both knowing that sand was slowly reaching further into unwelcome places.  It didn’t matter.  There was an urgent pressing need to make it last, to have this final moment together etched into their souls. 

It began with soft kisses.  On the chest.  On the ears.  Then it grew to a frantic obsession.  The sexual need was gone but that did not slow their desperate hands as they groped, pressed and squeezed every ounce of flesh of their partner.  The need to savor her every breath, every taste, consumed Bull. 

Praxis radio crackled indistinctly from under the pile of clothes.  With an exaggerated groan, Praxis wormed her way out of Bull’s grip to answer the static.

Reality came crashing down harder than he expected.

This was it.  The last time.

Is this what life was destined to be?  Pain? 

He had fought so hard in Seharon, only to have it nearly break his mind. 

Within the span of a few days, he’d watched his Kadan die and now she chose to leave him. 

All this pain and suffering in the name of the greater good.

Laughable that.  Whether within the Qun or not, selflessness and pain was universal and synonymous. 

No wonder Varric wrote those trash novels that finished with a ‘happy ever after’.  Fiction is the only place something that wonderful could exist.  The best Bull could hope for was for each day to suck a little less. 

He’d missed the conversation over the radio as he’d been lost in his own thoughts.  Luckily, Praxis summed it up, “The recon reports are back, they’re ready for us to go over the images that Risky collected.”

“Right.”

They brushed off as much sand as possible, dressed then slapped at each other to get the last of the sand off.  The ride back was easier on Bull since he knew what to expect.  It gave him time to think, but thinking lead him down a path he didn’t want to accept.

 

After they landed he walked with her, waiting until they were alone before confronting her with his theory.

“So.  How is this going to go down?”  Praxis quirked her head at his question in feigned ignorance.  

Irritated, he closed in on her.  “Why does Rothstein want Cullen so bad?  The lyrium in his body.  What’s to stop him from taking Cullen away from the Inquisition?  He has something else.  Where is it?”

“You’re not going to take it away are you?”  When Bull shook his head ‘no’, she pointed to the truck they rode in that morning.  “Under the seat, in the back.  I need to take it before we leave so they don’t try to take anyone else.  Vivienne made a concentrated blend, insurance that I won’t come back and should put on a good show.”

“A good show?  You’re not going to actually take it are you?”

“Yes.”

Bull imagined that the mages wouldn’t want to be anywhere near someone that pumped with Lyrium, they barely tolerated her as it was.  To add that to the mix, they’d petition the Inquisitor to have her removed.  The domino effect from that would only turn into a shit storm.  This was the easy way out. 

But that didn’t mean that Bull was any less pissed about it.  “Why?!  Just take the shit with you!  You’re smarter than this!  You’re better than this!”

She tried to duck away from him which only had him press harder.  “You think lyrium isn’t addictive?  What’s wrong with you?”

“BECAUSE I’M SELFISH!”  She screamed high pitched and uncontrolled.  It was juvenile and thick with raw emotion.  “Okay?!  Because I want it to kill me.  When I get to the other side I want to fucking die.  Is that what you want to hear!?  Because that’s why I went to Vivienne.”

She paced in circles as her hands gripped her hair.  “I can’t fucking do rehab again, I can’t survive this, not without you.  What does it fucking matter whether I’m dead or not?  Either way I’m gone.  I’m just fucking gone.  Okay?  Alright!?”

Bull had no idea how to respond.  Not to that.  His silence unintentionally agitated her further. 

“Jesus, The Bull.  Why, why did we do this?  We knew better.  How could we be so goddamned stupid?”  She had more to say, more pent up anger at the world she wanted to vent, but she stopped.  “What’s happening to you?”

He didn’t know what she was talking about, her eyes were transfixed on him.  She reached up and pulled the cord of his eye patch loose form the bottom of his ear.  Oddly, Bull felt the cold of the wind prickle at the corner of his mangled eye socket. 

Praxis barely spoke loud enough for him to hear, “You’re cr-…it’s a tear.” 

Instinctively he reached up and found that tears were budding from the crease where his eye would have been.  He had absolutely no control over it.  His right eye remained dry by his will, but his left…it leaked from his cracked soul. 

“I understand that what you have to do – it’s nothing personal.”  He wiped at his face then replaced the eyepatch.  “But it’s hard to not think it is when you choose to do it like that.”

“You want me to die a bitter, angry old woman, don’t you?”  She sighed when he nodded ‘yes’.  “But…this hurts.  _Oh God does it hurt._ ” 

For Bull’s entire life he knew he was nothing more than a cog.  An unnoticeable piece of the larger machine who was easily replaced.  But for her, he was everything.  Someone who survived capture, torture, and even battled demons found that loosing him was a pain she couldn’t bear. 

“Kadan…”

“Innamorato.”  She fell against him as he wrapped his arms around her.  She stayed, clinging tight until she finally found the composure to pull away.  “I’m sorry.  For everything.  You deserve better.  I shouldn’t have let it get this far.”

When she walked away, Bull wanted to punch her in the back of the head.  He wanted to force her to stay, force someone else to take her place.  He wanted to demand that the world to give him a fucking break for once. 

But it already had.  And now it was over.

Relying on skills he hadn’t used since he first arrived in Orlais, he buried his emotions and he marched behind Praxis back to the Command tent for their tactics briefing. 

 

There was no one left to see the sly hand steal Vivienne’s special lyrium mix.


	10. A Big Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to go right, but then suddenly go horribly wrong.

The meeting went unlike any Bull had attended in his life.  The first curiosity was how alert Praxis’ people were.  Any outsider would never guess that they had spent an entire night traveling, stayed awake the following day and were preparing to assault a damned city that evening.  This was attributed to the ‘go’ pills that the medic passed out.  Bull took a small comfort in knowing that once they wore off, their bodies would shut down for a normal rest. 

Cullen gave a typical briefing on the enemy forces’ locations and strategic positions.  The added element of what-the-fuckery were the images supplied by Sam and Risky.  They provided detailed images of every area, every unit that Cullen mentioned.  Bull watched the path from the camp to the city gates unfold before him on the display they set up next to the sand table.  The view continued beyond to show the four possible routes to the stronghold on the shore.   Bull eliminated two of the routes for tactical reasons and provided suggestions on how the others could be made more secure. 

Praxis was back to her old self during the entire meeting.  And by old, he regretted that it was the closed off, distant woman who first came to Skyhold.  Efficient, but empty inside.     

Bull had chosen a space next to Krem who joined him in watching with muted awe at the detailed information that Sam and Risky were able to retrieve.  Once the newness wore off, Krem dug a finger in Bull’s side.

“Chief.  What happened?”

“Nothing.  Pay attention or go back to sleep.”  Bull was thankful when Krem actually listened for a change.  It irked him that either his demeanor had slipped or that Krem knew Praxis so intimately that he also could tell something was wrong. 

At its core, the plan was simple.  A team of six would ride Kitty up to the two defensive positions that protected the gates, three would drop at each point to eliminate the defenders.  Cullen’s trebuchets would take down the gates, leaving an opening for the Chargers and Praxis’ team to barrel through.  Prepositioned scouts would relieve those who secured the high ground, allowing them to re-join the main team when they marched into the city. 

Cullen stressed the size of the resistance that they would meet, but none of them seemed concerned.  If anything, they became more confident as he described the different categories of red Templars they would face.  Knowing you’re on a mission to kill soulless demons is much easier than taking on a man fighting for another’s greed. 

“As we make our way through the city, the Chargers will not only provide close support for the firing units, but will also funnel any remaining citizens out of the city.”  Turning to Cullen, Praxis added, “Ensure your men know how to tell the difference between citizen and embedded soldiers.  So long as your people have their weapons drawn and ready for a fight, the citizens will run to avoid them, but the soldiers will try to take them head on.”

“Agreed.”  Cullen crossed his arms over his thick breastplate.  “A triage area has been set up beyond the camp to take in the injured who flee.  Dismissing a full on assault on the city, I will have plenty of men to spare to keep the refugee camp secure until we’re able to let them back into the city.” 

In the ensuing silence, Cullen and Praxis scanned their collected audience for questions before Cullen gave the actual order of dismissal.  Doc and Praxis handed out a few additional duties then joined Cullen at the modified sand table to refine their plan. 

As if feeling his gaze on her, Praxis looked over her shoulder at Bull before he left the command tent, “We’ll have a shorter version for your guys later tonight.  You should get some rest.”

He had no intention of responding, but Krem gave him a firm push to the shoulder which he ignored.  Outside, he tried to brush Krem off with an order, “You heard her.  Best get as much rest as you can.”

This earned him another punch in the arm, “Fuck off.  I know you better than that.  What happened?”

Bull explained Praxis’ plan about the lyrium and her intent to return home.  Krem mentally chewed on the information, biting his lip absently in thought.  “So, you’re just going to let her call it off?  Just like that?”

“Don’t get indignant with me.  It’s not as if she’s going to Naverra or even Tevinter.  Where she’s going I can’t follow and that’s the end of it.”

“Bullshit.” 

At this, Bull shoved Krem out of his path.  He was in no mood for this.  Words couldn’t change this.  There was no fix for the circumstances they were in, and talking only salted the wound. 

Two rocks pelted his head.  He marched on.  A large rock nailed him in the center of his back.

Rounding on Krem, the man met his icy stare with a punch to the chest.  “That’s it then?  You fucking quit?  It gets too hard, the world is turning against you, and you just fucking give up?!”

“Krem…”

“Don’t you pull that shit with me!  Fuck you!  Life is a damned bitch and sometimes you have to let her know who’s boss.”  Bull started to roll his eyes, but Krem snagged him by the harness and jerked his head down.  “You think I don’t know a thing or two about fighting against tough odds?  That I don’t know what you’re passing up?”

“She ended it.”

Krem tugged again on his harness.  It was really starting to piss Bull off.  “Did she?”

Plopping his hand on top of Krem’s head, Bull shoved him out of the way, “Dick.”

Bull could hear the smug grin in the reply tossed at his back.  “Happy to oblige, Chief.” 

The march back to the tent was quick and unencumbered.  It’s possible the look of murder on his face encouraged people to keep their distance.  Praxis stood over the sand table with Cullen and a few of her people going over some final details.  Their conversation died mid-sentence when he came to stand next to Praxis.

“You didn’t say Katoh.”  Bull folded his arms over his chest. 

Praxis didn’t answer right away.  She stood silent and confused for a brief moment before asking the others to leave. 

“The Bull, I’m just a burden.”

“That’s not what I need to hear.  I need to hear Katoh.”

“Please, just walk away.  It’s easier this way.”

His hand lunged forward and grabbed her by the neck and squeezed tight enough that she had to tap out.  He loosened his grip.  “What is it?  You want **me** to tell you what to do?  To force your hand?  That’s not how this works.”

When he released her, she stumbled then braced herself on the table.  “I can’t trust myself.  In my brain, I know what the right thing to do is, the smart thing, but at my core…I want that rush, I have to have it.  Going back home is just going to make it worse.  Do you really want to babysit me?” 

She buried her face in her hands, then looked up at him, her eyes pools of darkness created by personal battles she struggled alone for year to win.  Fear.  Disappointment.  Doubt.  The tombstone from the Fade burned in the back of his eyes – _giving up._   She was tired of this endless battle she knew she’d have to fight until the day she died.  Knowing the toll it took on her, she refused to suck someone else down into the abyss. 

“Do you have any idea, any clue, what it means for me to ask this of you?  I don’t want to do that to you.  Do you have any idea what it feels like to go up to someone, declare yourself incompetent to _fucking live_ and ask them to help hold your ass together?”

Immediately Bull flashed back to the day he was found soaked in blood in Seheron.  The Ben Hassrath stood at his sides, weapons drawn, nerves on a hair trigger waiting for a sign – _is he still him, or has he succumb to the madness_?

 _‘I’ve broken.  Take me to the re-educators.’_  

“Yes.  I do.”  Scanning Cullen’s sand table, he found a quill and ink.  “Hold still.”

She did as commanded without out question.  He took his time to get the drawing just right, also partly because he enjoyed holding her by the jaw and all the delightful memories that doing so spurred.

Dropping the quill in the bottle of ink, he finally released her.  “There.  All of your decisions, all your actions have led you to this -  a dick on your face.”

“What?!  No it didn’t!  You fucker!”  She glared through the opening of the tent, “Krem!  Krem!  Get over here!  What’s this?”

The lieutenant jogged in but slowed as he drew near.  Krem’s eyes followed her pointed finger at her face then darted back and forth between the couple in utter confusion.  “It’s…a penis.”

“Ahh!”  She slapped Bull on the chest as she screamed. 

Krem chose to stay out of harms way, but he folded his arms and planted his feet to watch the drama unfold. 

Praxis shouted up at Bull.  “You drew it!  You put it there.  I had nothing to do with it!”  She let out a frustrated huff before mumbling, “I bet the balls aren’t even shaved.”

“Nope.  They’re pretty hairy.”  Confirmed Krem. 

“Exactly.”  Bull shoved her shoulder to interrupt her pouting.  “Sometimes, it’s not _all_ about you.  We did this together.”

Krem stepped back, “You two are fucking weird.  How will I ever know if either of you are possessed?”

“That eager for an excuse to take me out, are ya Krem?”

“Chief, you wound me.”  Krem gave Bull a teasing wink before dismissing himself from the conversation as well as the tent.  “I dream of it constantly.”

Praxis leaned so hard against Bull that he held her more as a means of keeping her from falling on her ass than as a source of assurance. 

“You really want this?  I know I do.”

“Yes.  Besides, your heart pumps with my blood.  I can’t imagine a more badass way for us to be bound together.” 

She pressed a kiss to his torso then slapped the same spot playfully before rubbing her forehead.  “This better be the best drawn dick you’ve ever done – “

“Aw, c’mon, it brings out your eyes!”

“ – Or it had better wash off easy.”  She flicked her tongue out at him yet, she sucked it in with a smile.  “Here, I want to take a picture.”

She pulled out her long-ago dead phone which came to life with an explosion of color.  In a matter of taps on the glass, he saw their reflections. 

“You’ll have to crouch – “

Bull lifted her up with one arm so both of their faces fit on the tiny object.  “Ready?  I’ll count to three.  One, two, and three!”

At the last second, Bull stuck out his tongue to give the impression he was licking the tip of the drawn on penis.  Praxis squealed and squirmed with such delight, that he had to drop her back to the ground. 

“Hey, are the Chargers still on there?”

Praxis handed the phone over, “Sure, just swipe at the screen and you’ll see them.”  One of her teammates shouted from outside the tent.  “I’ll go take care of that, you hang on to that for me, k?”

Originally Bull had thought the thing ruined beyond repair, fortunately he’d brought it back with him instead of discarding it in the Hissing Wastes.  It was good to see his buys were still remembered, still honored.  Scrolling back through, he returned to the picture of he and Praxis.  A memory saved in pristine condition.  Amazing capability and yet she chooses to use it for such a ridiculous occasion. 

Bull pushed aside the tent flap and quickly found Praxis amidst some of her crew, all of whom were pointing and jeering at her face.  She smiled with them and willingly joined them so they could create pictures with their phones.  Z slapped her on the back then pointed in his direction, the last of her words barely readable.

_“…and you just let him do that?”_

Praxis’ gaze followed Z’s pointed thumb and landed on Bull.  Her cheeks reddened and her eyes glazed over when they met his.  Her expression was naked and unguarded – love.  Never had he anticipated that he would have fought so hard for such a base thing as an emotion.  Driven by feelings like some animal, especially one that was inherent for the sole purpose of breeding.    

Praxis turned back to Z with a smile, _“Yeah.  He’s a good man.”_

Another roar of laughter rose from the group, then died down as each one returned to their tasks.  Bull was mildly surprised when Praxis kept his drawing long after her bout of humility with her old unit.  She kept it when she spoke tactics with a red-faced Commander.  She patiently endured Hawke’s incessant laughing as she fitted him with a radio.  Even the Chargers’ bold faced teasing didn’t sway her when she helped Bull wake them that evening in preparation for the assault.  It was only when they gathered for the final tactics briefing at sunset when the Inquisitor commanded her to wash it off that she cleaned her face. 

The final briefing went quicker than the one earlier in the day.  All of the major decisions had been made and Praxis’ team already knew what to do.  Praxis led the briefing, easily shifting between the mixture of terms to ensure everyone was on the same page.

“Each squad will be a mix of Chargers and Earthicans.”  A few soldiers snickered at the term.  It was one they chose and if the name had a double meaning, it was lost to him.  “Chargers will provide security in the event of close quarters combat.”

Z scoffed, “Pfft!  Like any of those monsters are going to get past me.”

Praxis spoke over the agreeing sounds and similar claims from the group, “Everyone is security for the Inquisitor.  Recon shows that there is a rift in the center of the Keep.  All mages will stay behind the fighting lines to ensure there are no mix ups with the Venatori.  As we cut our way into the city, keep in mind P-ID.  Positive identification of all targets is a requirement!  No fucking around.  If unsure, let ‘em go, were have Cullen’s troops just outside the gates and they are more practiced in telling friend from foe.  Cullen has also offered up two troops that we’ll keep in the trucks as loaders.  All empty magazines will be handed off to them for reloading.  Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Krem stepped forward with his arms crossed, concern written in his features.  “When are your guys going to put on their armor?  I’d like a chance to know what areas are vulnerable before it gets too dark.  It’s hard to know how to defend if you’re not sure what to protect.”

The Earthicans drew quiet and stared at one another as if Krem broached a taboo topic.  Praxis looked down at the gear she was wearing – a chest plate and back plate covered in pockets filled with all manner of bits and bobs.  Her belt held magazines on both sides and in the small of her back was their version of an injury kit.  Everything else that covered her body was simple fabric.

“Krem, this is our armor.  There’s nothing more to add.”  A few Earthicans chuckled while others nudged them to be quiet. 

“No.”  Bull’s voice killed the atmosphere with its finality.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”  Praxis narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.  She knew what he’d meant.

“There’s cocky and then there’s stupid.  Wear proper armor or we go in without you.”

“And do what, exactly?  This is what we always wear, The Bull. You need to trust that we know what we’re doing.”  Praxis was doing a damn fine job of keeping her anger in check, but he could see the tell-tale signs that she was pissed.

His eyes darted subtly over her crew – there was unanimous agreement in their body language.  This was it.  No wonders she lost her damn leg in a fight.  He growled low under his breath, but dismissed the topic.  “Oh, all the stupid – Fine.  Proceed.”

She gave a curt nod.  Bull understood they would finish this conversation later, but he knew he’d already lost.  Hours from ‘go’ time, she was right, her people weren’t used to what his guys wore and the Chargers wouldn’t stand a chance without the Earthicans’ firepower. 

“One last thing, for the Chargers – this battle is going to be loud.  It may take a bit, but you should get used to it.  For the Earthicans – this is going to be the quietest battle you’ve ever been in.  There will be plenty of enemies, but nothing like the sound you’re used to.  Keep that in mind when you’re calling out movements on the radio.” 

She wrapped up the briefing by asking random people in the assault team questions about the timeline, radio use, fall back points, triage collection, civilian identification, defensive techniques.  When she ran out of questions, Risky raised his hand – apparently a common gesture among their people to demand attention.

“So, I have a drone to follow the main team, but what do you want me to do with the second one?”

Praxis rested her chin on her fist with one finger tapping on her cheek.  “Does it have speakers?”

“Well, yeah.  What?  Are you thinking of pulling some Noriega shit?”  Risky chuckled at the suggestion, then outright laughed when she nodded in agreement.  “Alright.  Pick your poison then.”

This set her people off to shout over each other with the most random assortment of words possible. 

“Welcome to the Jungle!”

“Skrillix!”

“Nine Inch Nails!”

“Justin Bieber!”

Praxis was thoroughly amused by all the suggestions and pointedly turned to Doc who’d remained quiet through the whole process.  “Your thoughts?”

The man shrugged his shoulders and offered, “What’s New Pussycat?”

Every single Earthican groaned in anguish.  This was the winner. 

“Okay, with that settled, let’s gear up and head out.”  At this, everyone stood and regrouped according to the assigned squads.  Praxis joined the group to be carried by Kitty. 

Outside the command tent, Bull pulled her aside.  “Don’t lie to me.  What are our chances?”

Staring up at him, he watched her eyebrows move as he mind worked, giving his question honest consideration.  “Actually, pretty damn good.  There’s always the chance that shit’ll get fucked up, but that’s part of the job.”

She bounced on her ‘feet’ to indicate a desire for a kiss.  Lacking ankles, she couldn’t reach his height.  She grabbed him by the neck to press their lips together roughly, her deep inhale sucking in his sent and setting his heart racing. 

“For luck.”

Bull chuckled, “You’re gonna need it wearing those damn pajamas.”

“Iron Bull, over here!”  Doc shouted, and upon looking, he stood with the rest of the squad Bull had been assigned to. 

Bull leaned down for a final kiss and quick ass grab, “Anaan, Kadan.”

“Kick some Venatori ass, Innamorato.”  She pecked him on the cheek then slapped his rear when he turned to join his squad. 

Being with the squad turned out to be another rehash of roles and responsibilities.  If anything, her people were thorough, which it made sense.  They walked through the motions of this mission with ease, whereas the Chargers, had never been a part of an assault with so many moving parts.  The complex sequence of events and heavy reliance on timing and communication left them in the Earthicans’ expertise. 

Bull was with the unit assigned to the Inquisitor.  In the beginning, his main role was to stay in the truck until they were closer to the rift.  That left Bull to be an escort, which he was more than pleased and practiced at doing.  With one of the more simple jobs, he had time to chat up Risky and Sam.

The two sat in a truck that didn’t have much space for passengers.  The back was filled with large phone screens, each one displayed different information.

Bull walked over and leaned against the open door.  “So, whatcha got going on there?”

Sam turned and gave him a knowing smile, the kind that let a man know a woman’s fantasy just from the bat of an eye.  She was jealous of Praxis.  “Well, these are each soldiers’ heath readings, this is the camera on Drone 1, here’s Drone 2, and I also have the cameras on each vehicle.  Risky over there has all the body cams as well as the one we put on Kitty.”

Bull perked up at this astonishing revelation.  “You’re telling me that you have complete battle space awareness at all times?  Directly see what everyone is doing?”

“Yup.”  Risky tapped at the device clipped to his ear.  “Can hear and see everything that happens.” 

The plan was suddenly less crazy and actually seemed too cautious for their capabilities.  The world, the wars Praxis had been through…he couldn’t imagine if these were the necessary countermeasures for the forces they faced. 

“So, what was that about earlier, when you guys were talking about a pussy cat?”

Sam and Risky laughed together, Sam still giggling as she explained.  “Years ago there was a military dictator in another country named Noriega.  Long story short, our government wanted to remove him from power, yet the higher ups wanted him alive.  The guy holed himself up in a historical building which meant that our forces weren’t allowed to damage it.  This significantly limited what they were capable of doing.  So, they resorted to psychological warfare.  They played annoying music non-stop for days until Noriega surrendered.”

Bull snorted in mild amusement, “So your plan to take out a bunch of crazy mages is to make them crazier?”    

Risky smiled back with those comically bright white teeth, “Yup!  It’s a party!”

 

It wasn’t long before darkness took hold of the land and campfires began to dot the landscape of the Inquisition camp.  The trucks were moved into position, ready to march forward into battle.  Praxis and Hawke’s team wore harnesses in preparation to rappel of the damned beast to their intended targets. 

Slowly, the mix of soldiers came closer together.  It was calm.  On both sides of the front lines.  The Venetori had to know something was going to happen, and they too, waited.

“Well.”  Doc looked at the sky then the surrounding area as though to gauge the darkness.  “It’s about that time.”

“So it is.”  Praxis took a deep breath.  “Queen?”

Doc shot her a half smile, “You know, some band has done a cover of that song.”

Immediately Praxis shook her head and put her hands up defensively.  “No, no.  It has to be Queen.  Are you serious?  I don’t give a shit about some faddy band thinking they’re cool because they could copy the legends.”

Risky called out from his truck, “Don’t worry Major, I got your back.”  After a thumbs up, music began playing from all the trucks.  The song began slowly – strange but insanely familiar.  It was meant as a solo, but everyone sang the part. 

Even the Chargers.

Praxis had seemed crazy when she had first sang it in the tavern months ago.  Especially when she paused for music that never played.  But it had always been there, buried deep in her mind.  The song had been so different and fun, the Chargers learned it.    

These selfless soldiers sang in the face of death, the face of the Maker.  This was the epitome of hubris. 

 _Too late, my time has come,_  
Sends shivers down my spine,  
Body's aching all the time.

They moved closer as one, each one singing to the other – shouting most of it. 

_I don't wanna die,  
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all._

This was the final summoning of courage.  Nerves smelted and set with steel.  The time had come and there was no fear left as they reached the end of the song.  The tempo of the song had shifted and arms were draped over shoulders to form a ring.  Each soldier sang their hearts out at one another.

_So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?  
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?_

The words didn’t matter, regardless how closely they touched on what they were about to embark on.  It was the spirit that spread through them in that moment that resonated the strongest– ‘I will fight with you.  I will fight for you, my brother-in-arms’. 

The song concluded with loud howling and yelling as the squads broke up again.  It was unfortunate that none of their species was graced with the ability to roar as befit the courage they exhibited.  The crazy bastards would have dragons pissing themselves. 

Bull took up his position to walk beside the Inquisitor’s truck.  Most of the soldiers were on foot.  The plan was for the drivers to set a pace that would have them closing in on the gates just as Hawke’s team took out the watch posts. 

The scene played out just as smooth as they had planned.  Bull watched as the distant human figures dangled from Kitty as she flew over, then dropped down.  A smattering of _pop-pop-popopopop_ and the fight was done.  Cullen’s scouts raced along the ridgeline to take control of the siege weapons. 

A shot of cannon fire sent a bright red light up into the sky which then burst into life – an illumination round.  That was the signal.  Bull hefted his maul, ready for the barrage of red lyrium tainted Templars he’d grown accustomed to fighting across Thedas.

Not a one came closer to him.

Between the foot soldiers and the heavy gunners mounted on the trucks, the forces holding the gates didn’t stand a chance.  It was like watching a famer reaping a wheat harvest.  Each line of troops was quickly cut down, never having a chance to inflict damage. 

Bull was glad that Praxis had warned about the sound.  Typical battles were loud with all the clashing and yelling blending together to make it difficult to hear another person talk.  This, this was a whole different kind of loud.  The pops pinched at his eardrums.  The bangs resonated to rattle his bones.  The hum from the vehicles vibrated in his chest.  With all of these elements combined to drown and deafen his senses, it was exceptionally eerie to see how easily the Earthicans could communicate.  The ear pieces and neck clipped radios carried their voices with clarity and ease and they had no difficulty picking out words from the chaos of noise that reigned around them. 

Praxis’ team rappelled down the cliff face once all the shooting stopped.  They joined the ranks of foot soldiers after they had traded in their empty magazines.

The Chargers broke from formation, ready to pull out and move the bodies so the trucks could continue into the city. 

Z’s whistle pierced through the night.  “Back up guys, I got it.”  She disappeared into the truck and pulled out a different type of weapon.  When the other Earthicans saw what she brandished, they all backed up quickly to take cover behind the trucks. 

“MAKING A HOLE!” Z’s preparatory command.

“Making a hole!” The echo from the rest of the soldiers was the command of execution.  A small _flomp!_ sent a projectile twirling straight for the center mass of the pile of corrupted bodies blocking the gates.  Z ducked down in sync with the rest.  The Chargers copied their actions.  A massive explosion sent body parts flying out in every direction. 

“FORWARD!”

Commands came from any direction.  There was not distinction between soldier and commander.  Whoever was in the best position to call it, called it. 

Yeah, Cullen’s people wouldn’t have fared as well his guys.  They were too accustomed to being micromanaged.  Bull did a quick visual check that everyone was accounted for and moving. 

Praxis joined his side, her pace slightly quicker to compensate for his longer stride, but she made it look graceful.  And deadly.  Her weapon was as long as her arm and hung from a clip at her shoulder.  The clip was a pivot point and her shoulder cushioned the recoil from the weapon.  Her proximity to him was the only acknowledgement she offered him, her focus was split between the way ahead and the voices in her ear.  Attached to her back was a shield and a small sword at her side.  It was odd to see her armed in that way and he had no idea when she’d acquired the items.  Dagna’s hand was certainly seen in the craftsmanship.  He’d have to ask her about it later. 

The trucks maintained a slow roll to match the foot soldiers’ march.  The inner city reacted just as predicted, the civilians scrambled to get out of the gates.  Time and again they would stop and acted on the information from one of Risky’s drones to take out defensive firing points with a rocket.  They made slow progress, but they were thorough in clearing out remaining forces and evacuating civilians.  Skinner, Krem, and Stitches were on what Praxis called a ‘door-kicker’ team with other Earthicans.  Strategic buildings with decent vantage points from the roof were cleared out room by room.  The Earthicans moved with precision, following procedures they had practiced countless times that developed into instincts.  The entire mission was surgical, precise, and a little fucking scary considering the impact the small team was able to inflict. 

Nearing the heart of the city, things calmed down, making conversation possible, though few took advantage of it.  After all the resistance they had eliminated early in the battle, it wasn’t much of a wonder as to why the way ahead was practically clear.  A ripple of laughter went through the soldiers with earpieces.

Praxis turned to Bull and tapped her ear, “Hawke says that some of the Venatori are running from the Keep, screaming and holding their ears.  He’s going to chase the ones who’ve fled, keep their numbers spread out.  Trying to make taking the Keep as easy as possible.”

Walking through the city was slow going since they intentionally worked to neutralize as many adversaries as possible.  Regular soldiers were wounded and left for Cullen’s follow-up troops to handle.  All demons, behemoths, and red Templars were killed.

Reaching the keep, the trucks came to a full stop and for the first time, the Inquisitor hopped out of his vehicle to see the city.  Bull had thought it was unnerving earlier, but that was nothing compared to standing a few fathoms outside a Keep and listening to jolly music playing incessantly.  Yeah, this shit’d drive him fucking crazy too. 

“Inquisitor.”  Praxis drew Mahanon to the front of the group and handed him an object.  “Hold this up like this and they will be able to hear you from anywhere in the Keep.”

The elf nodded, “Venatorri.  The Inquisition has defeated your forces.  Surrender.  You have nothing left to gain here today.”

The answer came in the form of a brewing lightning storm mixed with a blizzard.  The Earthicans watched in amusement, not a one even considered moving or seeking cover.  The Chargers took up ready stances, prepared to hold their ground until the spell dissipated. 

However, the spell never had a chance to reach full strength.  Praxis removed her sword and shield.  Standing firmly between the Inquisitor and the source of the spell, she shouted up at the mage and banged her sword against the shield.  The resulting shockwave knocked out the hex like a candle flame.   

_Huh, nice to know Cullen’s lessons actually taught something._

“Last chance.  Surrender, or die.”  Mahanon’s voice echoed through the empty city. 

“ **How dare you remove me!!  How dare you, you fucking criminal!  Traitor!** ”

In the silent city, Rothstein’s voiced carried easily to the assault team.  Praxis ran, snaking through the formation to get closer to the butt-hurt officer.  “Keep your attention on the Keep!  I will handle this!”

Bull was stuck to his spot with the Inquisitor outside the safety of the truck.  They had to keep their attention on the danger side, but something in Bull sensed that the direction of the most danger had suddenly changed.  He moved to have his body between Rothstein and Mahanon. 

“Captain.  Back up.  You’re not part of this mission, you’ll only endanger others and yourself.  C’mon, let’s head back to the camp.”  Praxis spoke evenly, lacking any emotion that could trigger the unstable man.  She had to know something was wrong as she worked to coax the man further from their party.

“You think you know everything.  You think you’re so fucking special.  Well, how would your precious team like to know how you’ve been lying to them?  Huh!?”

“Captain, stand down, you’re not thinking this all the way through.  This is not a good time.”

“Quit trying to buy time.  You tried to hide the power you found here, well guess what?  It’s mine now.  Now I get the recognition, I get the promotion!  Me!”

Rothstein suddenly fell backward after taking a hit to the face.  Bull traced the trajectory to find Z turned in her gunner seat with a sling shot in hand, primed and ready for a second assault.  “Major!  Pin ‘im down ‘til the battle is over.  Crazy fucker is going to get us killed.”

Z’s command was unnecessary since Praxis was already sprinting to take him on.  She pounced on the captain as he lay on the ground and of course the Venatori chose this time to attack. 

The battle was going as normal as anyone might expect from the sneaky ‘Vint bastards, until there was a brilliant flash of blue, then a shockwave that tossed Bull over thirty feet from where he stood.  His body slammed hard onto the cobblestone street.  Every inch of his skin tingled.  He felt his blood rushing through his veins and it was sickening.  He tried to stand but ended up doubled over and vomiting.  His horns felt heavy and his fingers felt light.  It was more disorienting than when he’d been in the Fade. 

Calling out to the Chargers was more difficult than he could have ever imagined.  A numb tongue and a mouth full of drool was horribly ineffective at forming any kind of sounds.  He struggled to stand, working slowly and bracing his weight against a building.  The only why he was going to find out what happened would be to see for himself.

Considering how he felt, he was a bit surprised to see that there was no damage to the surrounding area.  There were still glass panes in the windows.  Only the Chargers were affected, scattered about the streets like confetti. 

A sting of panic hit him.  Where were the Earthicans?  He was certain he hadn’t been knocked out, and if so, it couldn’t have been for long.  They couldn’t have left the area without anyone noticing.  He had to assume the worst. 

The time it took to stumble to each of his guys wasn’t enough for him to regain the ability to speak.  He relied on a touch of a shoulder and an approximation of a nod to know his team was doing alright.  His last stop was the source of the explosion, or at least his best guess. 

The bright glow came from a lump of whining blue lyrium.  The mangled shape resembled a blue behemoth Templar.  The sound of the lyrium burned the inside of his ears.  It was difficult to pick out any recognizable body parts that were once Rothstein’s, but there was no denying that he was at the core of the dying abomination.  Lyrium boiled out of his skin.  Some crystalized against his tattered uniform and some poured into the cracks of the cobblestone street. 

Bull heard movement behind him as some of the Chargers found their feet.  “Stay.  Back!” 

It was rough forcing the words through his heavy lips.  The effort punched the wind out of his lungs.   Grasping at his sides, he drew a few deep breaths before daring to move again.  There was another whimper.  A soft gasp, the type he’d heard before in the aftermath of a battle – _defeat, imminent death, pain_.   

Careful to keep his feet from touching anything that came from the pile of what used to be Rothstein, Bull managed to find the remains of his face.  Part of the skull was caved in on one side, an eye hung from a socket and red oozing holes lined the man’s mouth where his teeth had been.  The creature continued to make noises, but there was nothing human left that could answer any questions.  Bull used his maul to poke and push until he found a clue. 

A vile was tucked into the limp, boneless remains of a hand.  He tapped it and when it rolled away from the rotting corpse, pieces of flesh followed.  Feeling a new heat in his hand, he dropped his weapon, abandoning it to the corruption of whatever the fuck it was that had claimed the errant soldier.

A pang of regret hit him as he heard horses approaching.  “Chargers!  At the ready!”

His command turned out to be pointless as Inquisition forces were the ones racing through the city. 

“There you are!  Over here!  You!  Take a contingent and clear out that Keep.”  Cullen cried out to his troops, some jumped down and began to render aid to those who remained on the ground.  “Sweet Maker’s blood what happened here?  What is that?!”

Knowing that Cullen had security under control, Bull let himself drop back to the ground.  He leaned against a building and found he had to find his breath once again to have the strength to answer. 

“Rothstein.  He must have taken some bad lyrium.  I didn’t see it, but that pile of slime is all that’s left of him.”

Cullen turned his head to and fro, scanning the area as best he could.  “Where is Praxis and her people?”

“Dunno.”  Bull refrained from shaking his head, even slight movements were causing sparks of pain behind his eyes.  “They disappeared after the blast.  Dead for all I know.”

“Maker’s breath.  Well, there could be some hope.  The trucks are gone too…maybe…”  Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, worry carved deep into his features. 

There was something more he wasn’t telling.  “What caused you to break from the plan and rush in?”

Kneeling next to Bull, Cullen lowered his voice.  “We all felt the explosion in the camp.  Who knows how far it reached.  The camp is still in a bit of chaos when I left, but I had to be sure I got here first.”

“Got here first for what?”  Bull sat up straighter, his gut burning from Cullen’s circumventing the issue.

“Ser.”  Two soldiers carried the Inquisitor by the shoulders.  At Cullen’s hand gesture, they set him down gently next to Bull. 

“You okay boss?” 

Mahanon leaned his shoulder against Bull’s.  “That was unexpected.”  He gave a small laugh as his eyes closed.  “Dorian’ll be thoroughly pleased to scold me on this one.  He guessed it.  He knew something weird was going to happen.”

Bull wanted to laugh along with him, but Cullen’s solemn behavior kept him in check.  Another soldier came running from the keep.  “Ser, it’s as you suspected.  All of the Venatori are dead.”

Mahanon stirred, “Cullen.  Why would you think all the Venatori dead?  We didn’t even cross the threshold.”

“Inquisitor.”  Cullen’s voice cracked.  Mahanon sleepily opened his eyes and leaned forward.

Still on one knee, the Inquisition’s Commander delivered a devastating blow.  “Dorian is dead.”

“No.  He stayed behind.  He was safe!”  Mahanon’s eyes grew wide and wet, a tremor slinked through his arms. 

“All of the mages in the encampment, all of them died in the shockwave.”

_Dalish.  Crap._

“That’s impossible!”  Mahanon tried to rush Cullen but he was still too weak to make much of the effort.  He fell forward, his hands catching in the man’s furry mantle. 

“Boss.”  Bull couldn’t bring himself to say it.  As if the entire world hadn’t already gone completely tits up, this had to happen.  Bull pried Mahanon’s left hand from Cullen and turned up palm upward.

“Andraste preserve us.”  At this point, Cullen fell back to sit on his ass, his entire reason for being having been ripped out from under him.

All three men stared at the plan hand.  Unmarked and entirely absent the glow of the Fade. 

The sorrow at the death of his lover rolled down Mahanon’s cheeks in thick tears but the fear of the uncertain future prevented him from mourning.  The shock, the horror of the reality that they were now powerless to close the breach, deadened his ability to react to anything else.

Curling his fingers in to hide the unremarkable palm, Mahanon turned to his companions, “What do we do now?” 

An elf, a Tal-Vashoth, and a recovering addict sat helpless in the city streets where lively music played during their hollow victory.

 _What's new, pussycat?_  
Whoa, whoa~  
What's new, pussycat?  
Whoa, whoa~~


	11. It All Tumbles Down

The Inquisitor was escorted back to camp with Cullen in tow.  The Commander deflected all questions and tasks by falling into his default command mode and delegating everything that was brought to him.  The more soldiers were turned away, the fewer that dared to approach their party. 

The Keep was sealed off by guards forming a perimeter.  The rift remained.

No one knew about the Mark.    

Bull and the Inquisitor rode a borrowed mount back to the command tent.  Mahanon was tucked tightly against Bull’s chest.  _Injured_ – that’s the story that spread.  They had decided to hide his condition for the time being, for as long as they could.  Bull’s massive arms and Cullen’s cloak hid most of the elf.  The rhythmic gait of the horse was light and easy, a stark contrast to the harsh gasps and shutters that came from the Inquisitor.   

Mahanon had been reluctant to give into his grief at first.  It took Bull’s whispered invitation for him to pour his soul out.  “Do it now, you may not have the chance later.”  There was no telling how the world would react when they found out about the Mark. 

_Mourn.  It’s a luxury I don’t have._

Twice.  He’d dealt with her being taken from him twice.  This time he wasn’t even sure what had happened to her.  Dead, alive, suffering – he didn’t know.  He despised the hole it left in him.  The void sucked at his strength, tore into his lungs, and thrashed in his gut.  This was his fault, he had let this happen, let his emotions take over.  He would deal with it. 

Cradling the distraught man in his arm, another shuddering round of quiet sobs fell against his chest.  It hadn’t been this bad after Haven.  That was the nature of emotional free will.  Left to its own devices, attachment, love, grew and blossomed.  The roots bored ever deeper into the soul.  Just as Bull had let Praxis in, so had Mahanon with Dorian. 

The loss was like being ripped in two by a lightning bolt.    

Finally inside the command tent, Mahanon uncurled and stood on his own for the first time since the blast.  The inside of the tent had a dull glow from the candlelight. It was normal, natural.  The haunting red glow from Praxis’ illumination round had been practical for night vision, but had put Bull’s nerves further on end.  Red lights, green Fade.  It was fucking great to finally be in a place with a normal orange hue.

Cullen cleared his throat, then gestured toward the center of the tent.  “I had him brought here.  I don’t know Dalish customs for…” 

The Inquisitor walked slowly over to the body.  Bull’s eyes darted to the others in the tent – Krem, Cullen.  Neither saw what he did.  They only saw the sadness.  Bull saw a broken man.  He was no longer the inquisitor, no leadership left in him.   The Boss was on a precipice Bull knew all too well.  The tipping point, one of no return.  As the world came tumbling down, as reality became too much to bear, Mahanon was little more than an egg, waiting to crack from the pressure.  Bull held a small hope that the rest of the team would help, but surveying the returning party, that hope faded. 

Mahanon was barely holding on to his sanity.  The loss of the Mark was a punch in the gut for Cullen and as good as an executioner’s blow to the Inquisition.  The threads of command were unraveling quickly.

Cullen himself was ready to crack, an emptiness settled into his eyes.  It was like being defeated at Haven all over again, except this time there wasn’t a source of inspiration to lean on.  Andraste’s Chosen was nothing but a man.  A single unextraordinary elf.  

A nobody. 

Mahanon knelt by Dorian’s body.  There were no marks, no blood, one would assume he was sleeping.  Reaching out, Mahanon cradled Dorian’s cheek, his face trembling with grief.

“Maker’s balls.” Whispered Krem’s at the sight of the Inquisitor’s plain hand.

“Keep it to yourself.  We need to maintain order.”  Bull refused to be pulled into the emotional depression and he tried to keep Krem afloat with him. 

“Alright.  Who fucked up?  What in the Void **was** that?”  Hawke stormed into the tent, still wearing his harness to ride securely on Kitty.  “Where’s the rest of the team?”

“That explosion knocked all of us on our ass, sent Praxis’ and her men…somewhere.”  Krem’s eyes shifted to the Bull quickly and only at the nod of his head did he continue.  “And all the mages are dead.”

Hawke clapped his hands together in satisfaction, “Yeah!  Alright!  Not bad for a night’s work.” 

Bull snared Hawke by the arm and jerked him roughly to have their eyes square.  “ **All** the mages, you cock-up.”

Stunned into silence, Bull left the man to mull over the news.  It wasn’t until Hawke saw the Inquisitor silently crying over Dorian that reality dawned on him. 

Warden Alistair joined them with a bound prisoner in tow.  “Commander.  I believe we have some answers for you.” 

Mahanon hid his hand at the sound of the sudden intrusion.  Alistair pushed his captive forward and she fell on her knees.  “She’s the reason Rothstein escaped.  She’s the one who gave him the lyrium.”

Pasclina hissed at Alistair over her shoulder, but saved her most vile glare for Mahanon.  “As if I have anything to regret.  You deserved it.  She most of all.  I hope she burned, a slow, searing fire consuming her entire clan.  No one is so high as to- “

Her final words caught in her mouth when Mahanon stalked up to her.  Without a single word the Inquisitor reached out, grabbed her by the neck and snapped it in a single deft motion. 

“The Inquisition has found you guilty of mass murder.  Your sentence is death.”

An uneasy silence swept the room.  No one knew how to react. 

Except Hawke, “Ah, thank you!”

However, the stern look he received from Cullen kept any lingering thoughts in his thick skull. 

“Ah.  So here we are.” 

There hadn’t been a sound, not even a ruffle in the tent flap that would have warned Bull of the mysterious woman’s entrance.  “So many significant players in one place, though I must admit that I find myself rather disappointed with the endgame.”

Bull surged to Mahanon’s side, lacking a weapon, he puffed out his chest and flexed his arms, ready to pummel to old woman into the ground.  Considering how the night was unfolding, he wasn’t going to take any chances. 

“You!”  Hawke groaned as if the woman were a debt collector.

“Not again.”  Alistair waved at Bull to stand down.  “Don’t worry, she’s only come to talk us to death.  If we’re lucky, she’ll turn us all into toads and then we won’t have to listen.”

“Such a reception!  One would think that I was the one who doomed our world.”  The woman cackled, unphased by their reaction.  She wore flattering armor in brilliant reds and silver.  Her white hair was neatly styled on her head to resemble a dragon’s crown.  Her face was aged but there was nothing feeble about her.  Her stance, calm, and voice all resonated with power.    

“Anyone care to explain what is going on?”  Mahanon barked, irritated, and exhausted.

Alistair and Hawke exchanged glances, but Hawke gave a polite bow for Alistair to explain.  “Everyone, this is the Witch of the Wilds, or Flemeth.  Or as some have called her- “

“Mythal.”  Mahanon whispered as he stood awe struck. 

None of the names meant anything to Bull, except the last one.  Of the few customs that he learned from Dalish, he remembered a god’s name when he heard it. 

“ _HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?!  What sort of god are you!_ ”  Tears stained his cheeks.  His fists trembled with restraint. 

Impassive to his outburst, Mythal approached Mahanon and delicately inspected his hand.  “Not even a trace remains.  Nothing to ensure conquest.  Corypheus has won.” 

Cullen ducked his head in shame, as if it where his fault somehow.  It’s not every day that you hear a god say that the world is doomed.  Once it got out that the Inquisitor could no longer close rifts, nobles would take their money and run, and the army would shatter. 

The Commander broke.

 _That’s two down._   Bull ponders, _Nothing to hold the Inquisition together now._

“It seems that you are need of a little help.”  She held out a fist and from it dropped Dorian’s amulet which hung from her fingers by a cord.  “Fascinating the things one finds lying around.” 

Mahanon remained stoic as he offered a guess at what the witch-god wanted.  “Are you saying we should go back in time and prevent this from happening?” 

“Maker’s balls!  You mean we have to do all this again?!”  Groaned Hawke.

“You prefer becoming a lyrium monster instead?”  Alistair snapped at him.

“No.  You can’t go back to a time where you already are.  Creates more problems than it solves.”  Her musical tone was difficult to discern.  Bull couldn’t be sure if it was condescending or soothing.  “What is needed, is a fresh start.”

“Does she always talk in riddles like this?”  Bull kept his eyes on Mythal but tilted his head to direct his question at Alistair.

“Oh, it’ll get worse before it gets better, just let her keep going.  Soon we’re going to be asked to do the impossible.”

“Huh, that sounds familiar.”  Hawke agreed with Alistair.

Mythal’s voice slipped deeper, sterner.  “I present you with an opportunity to prevent this from happening.  I suggest you take it, or prepare to endure the inevitable suffering that is to come.”

Mahanon was the only one who sounded mildly interested in whatever blood magic this woman had to offer.  “I don’t understand.  You said we can’t go back in time, so how are we supposed to prevent this from happening again?”

She laughed again.  “What sort of heroes would you be if I gave you all the answers?”

“I’ll do it.  If it changes our fate, if Dorian lives, if we can save the world, we have to do it, right?”  Krem scanned the room, seeking to gauge the support he’d get from the others.  At least one of them still had a reason to live.    

Mythal’s expression melted from amusement to concern.  “It would change our fate.  By how much, one can never be certain.  Remove one pawn and the threat is only delayed, there is always another waiting.  Hidden.  However, the king survives.”  She cocked her head to stare down Bull.  “You are awfully quiet for one who understands so much.  What is your stake in this?  Duty, honor,”  she scoffed, “Love?”

Bull narrowed his eyes, “Survival sounds good.”

A grin sent wrinkles rippling through the woman’s cheeks, “Yes.  Pragmatic to the core, yet tainted by romantical hopefulness.”  Her back arhed as she cackled.  “Adorable.” 

Mythal brought out the amulet once more, “You will do.”  A dramatic swirl of her fingers set the amulet alight with magic.  “One last thing, find your Praxis and reset the game.  This board has become a mess.  A fresh start would be nice, don’t you agree?”

The old woman didn’t wait for an answer.  A lightness took hold of Bull’s stomach.  Magic hummed in his ears.  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes anticipating an onslaught of magic. 

 

“You gonna do your creepy magic shit or what?”  Opening his eyes, Bull’s muscles tensed defensively.  They were no longer in the tent and certainly nowhere near the Inquisition camp.  The bright midday sun made that freakishly obvious. 

This terrain was harsh and rough, similar to the Hissing Wastes but with a bit more vegetation, even if small.  A burning smell lingered and had a hint of unnaturalness to it.  It reminded Bull of visiting Dagna in the middle of an experiment.  Chemicals mingled with each other to sting the inside of his nose. 

“We need to get out of here.”  Cullen waved at them all to follow him.  Bull hung back to ensure that everyone heard and was able to follow.  Krem, Alistair, Hawke, and Mahanon hesitantly moved toward the Commander, all of them searching their surroundings for the what spooked Cullen.    

Each of them had their own level of unease, some on unsteady legs, others with a head on a swivel.  There was something _off_ about the area which led everyone to following Cullen’s lead without question.

“You know where we are?”  Hawke began to jog to keep pace.

Soon, they were all running with Cullen.  Odd noises pipped in the area.  It was hard to discern exactly where it was coming from.  High up?  But there were no trees.

“Keep moving!”  Cullen barked, stretching out his stride to cover more distance. 

The longer they ran, the sturdier their feet became.  The way Cullen refused to let up fostered urgency among the group.  There was no time for talking, only moving forward, moving away. 

A shrill noise burst through the sky. 

“GET DOWN!”  Everyone dove into the dirt, covering their head only after observing Cullen doing so. 

The shrill grew louder, more piercing then a chest rattling _boom_ sent debris and a concussive wave over their bodies.  The ground shook beneath them, setting a weight in their guts.  Four times.  A pause.  Five more times.    Each of the explosions moved further away by bits.  Not much, but enough to know they were going in the right direction. 

“C’mon.”  Cullen was on his feet and gone before finishing his short command.

Following that experience, they managed to move faster.  Pushing, struggling to breathe, but still pushing onward.  The dirt under their feet gave way with each step, the trying battle of pressing forward but sliding backward whittling their strength away. 

The shrill whistle sounded again, but this time, Cullen slowed down and waited.  The sound was muted by the distance but the impact still hummed in their chests.    

“We should be safe now.  Maker’s breath, one would think magic would put us closer to the city.”  Cullen hunched over, bracing his hands on his knees.  The weight of his armor was not intended for a hasty retreat.

“Where are we?”  Krem also squirmed in his armor, though his wasn’t near as heavy, it was also not designed for running.

“A testing field in the middle of nowhere.”  Cullen waved his hand at the barren landscape.  “Or to put it more broadly, we’re in Praxis’ world.”

“What do we do now?”  It felt strange to have Mahanon be the one to ask, up to that point, they had always asked him.

“We head south.”  Cullen scanned the skies and found some telltale sign in the sparsely starry blackness.  “If we’re lucky, we’re only a day away from the city.”

“And if we’re unlucky?” probed Krem.

“Either we’re so far north it’ll take us four days instead of one, or the military that owns this area picks us up.  Praxis warned Dorian and I about the authorities here.  We don’t want to run into them since we have no papers, an elf, and a Qunari.  She never said _exactly_ what would happen, only that it would be ‘bad’.”

“Well, I’m fucking excited.”  Hawke slammed a rough pat on Cullen’s back.  “Led on.”

They traveled in silence.  Bull was thankful for small graces, the sun wasn’t too hot and it wasn’t raining.  It was hard to believe that there was a city only a day’s travel.  Considering the stark landscape that stretched beyond the horizon, the only solution he could fathom involved it being built around an oasis. 

Remembering some of Praxis’ comments from the Winter Palace, Bull called up to Cullen.  Perhaps some conversation would help him forget he was getting hungry.  “What can you tell us about this city?  How large is it?  Praxis didn’t seem too impressed with Val Royeaux.”

“It’s nothing you’ve ever seen before.”  Cullen turned on Hawke who scoffed at his statement, “To include the Fade.  It’s all lights, people, sounds.  The day time is when it’s quiet.  Night time is utter chaos, but ordered chaos?  It makes sense to the people who live there, but to outsiders like us.  It will be easy to get lost.  It’s unfortunate we don’t have Sonny to help us.”

“Who’s Sonny?” said Hawke.

“Sonny is a device that Praxis had.  She gave one to…us, um…during the last visit.”  Cullen stumbled over his words, belatedly aware of his audience.

When Mahanon spoke, it lacked the confidence it used to have.  The intonation was hollow.  “You can say his name.  It won’t change anything.”

Bull watched as the effect of the deadened words ripple through their small group.  Morale sank lower, even Krem was pained by the Boss’ depression. 

Sighing, Cullen rubbed at his neck, probably for the first time in response to sweat from his feathery cloak.  “I regret that Dorian learned more of this world than I.  During the weeks I spent with the healers, he went around town and learned all that he could.”

“I imagine he became an expert in a matter of days, telling everyone how to do things better, a little more Vinty-like.”  Bull took a gamble, hoping that refocusing Mahanon’s memories would help.

Mahanon laughed lightly.  _Good._

“It would take a lifetime to learn everything there is about this place.”  Squinting his eyes, Cullen checked the blank horizon.  “It’ll be easier to show you.”

Bull thought aloud, “Do you think Praxis would have any portraits of the city on this?”

He pulled out the phone she’d let him keep.  Cullen’s eyes brightened immediately.  “It can do better!  That’s Sonny!”  Taking the device from his hands, Cullen eagerly pressed and tapped on the thing with greater familiarity than Bull possessed.  “Sonny – where is Praxis?”

_‘I cannot complete your request at this time.  Please ensure all updates are installed and try again.’_

“What does that mean?” blurted Hawke.

“Okay, I think I got this.”  After a few more taps, the screen displayed numbers to indicate percentage complete.  “When it hits 100 then we can use it again.”

“It’ll know where to find Praxis?”  Mahanon looked at the thing incredulously. 

“It can tell us how to get there, yes.”

Bull felt Krem’s elbow in his ribs.  Looking down, he saw a hopeful grin before Krem walked on with the rest of the group.  At least one thing was going well.  For now.

“Commander.”  Krem called out.  “What’s the name of this city any ways?”

“Las Vegas, also known as ‘Sin City’”


	12. Three is the loneliest number (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip the city doesn't go smoothly at all, but at least they find some food.

“Go!  Go! Go!  Yeah!  Give it to him!” 

The crowd roared, cheering Cullen on. 

Flashes of light added to the other-worldly feel of his situation.  Cullen didn’t think too much about it.  He stopped thinking, stopped worrying hours ago. 

The only thing he cared about were the muscular thighs beneath his fingers and the tight rim he was cleaning out.  Pressing down on the thick legs spread the man wider, opening him up to have Cullen’s nose tease at the man’s taint. 

Maker, how he needed this. 

More cheers and some laughing.  The night was young – the party having only just started.  Or did it start hours ago?  The alcohol he’d consumed made the passing of time too fuzzy to remember accurately. 

Instead, he focused on how his tongue lapped and swirled.  Dragging his hands down over the buttocks, he had his thumbs meet at the center to pry open that firm ring.  He pierced through with his tongue, languishing the inner walls the way he knew any man would crave, his thumbs simultaneously massaging the edge of muscles to relax and allow him to enter. 

“Yeah!  Get in there!”

“Woo-hoo!  Alright!”

The vague memory of a Chantry sister scolding him for pleasuring himself in private made him chuckle.  _If only she could see me now, performing sex acts for a crowd._

It had been a long day to lead him to this point…

 

 

Cullen had tried to distract himself during the long journey through the desert by fielding questions about Vegas.  However, that proved to be more frustrating than productive.  The majority of answers consisted of ‘I don’t know why’ and ‘I can’t explain better than that, it’s easier to show you’. 

Sweat slivered under his clothes and armor.  Cullen felt itchy.  He wanted to divest himself of all the layers, but he knew the night would bring a freezing cold and it wouldn’t do to lose energy freezing.  Looking over his shoulder, his companions remained, but there was no enthusiasm in their steps, except for perhaps Krem.  He was the only one who seemed mildly optimistic about their mission.

What was their mission?  Find Praxis and then what?  They didn’t have the amulet and the last time he traveled between worlds, magic was involved and without a mage in their group, what was to be done? 

Shaking his head, he returned to the topic of describing the ‘test range’ they were traversing.  “The military is constantly building and reinventing their aircraft.  This is the range where they test the flights and explosive capabilities.”

No new questions.  No new conversation.  Cullen had to keep busy, had to stay distracted from the looming depression.  He turned to Bull, “Is that thing working yet?”

Using only the tips of his fingers, Bull pulled out the phone to delicately place in his palm.  After Cullen made clear how important the device was, Bull took greater care with the glass object.  “The number is at sixty-seven.  Oh.  Crap.”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong?”  Hawke dashed to Bull’s side.  “What’s that message mean?”  He then turned to Cullen as the expert, “What does this mean?”

Bull sighed, “It means that the power that is feeding this is low, like a mage tapped out of mana.  The last time I saw this message it took about a quarter hour before it ceased functioning.  We need to find a power source for it.” 

Rubbing at his neck, Cullen’s armor felt twenty pounds heavier at the thought, “Then we may have to walk the entire way to the city.”

“We’ve walked all over Thedas, multiple times, what’s the big difference here?” asked Krem.

“Traveling the roads at night is dangerous due to high speed that cars travel.  They are not meant for people.  Also, there may be bandits.  Here, we can’t kill them like the nuisance they are in Thedas.  Plus, they could be armed with weapons similar to what Praxis’ team came with.  It’s a lose-lose scenario.” 

Hawked burst into laughter, “What would they steal from us?  The weapons we can’t use?  The armor that’s weighing us down?  I don’t think any of us had time to grab a coin purse before being swept into this madness.”

“I have sixty papers.”  Krem offered.

“You mean the green ones, with faces?”  Cullen approached him and Krem produced the items in question.  “Well, that’s helpful.  If we do make it to the outskirts of the city, we’ll at least be able to get some food.  Did you get anything else off of Praxis’ team?”

“I have this.”  Mahanon plucked out a then card from his pocket.  “Dorian let me keep it since it has his picture on it, I don’t remember what it does.”

Cullen looked at it and wasn’t sure either.  “It’s either the key to Praxis’ apartment or it’s the credit card she gave Dorian.  I couldn’t tell the difference between the two.”

“Credit card?  You mean that thing translates to a line of credit?  For how much?”  Hawke turned from the phone to the card in Mahanon’s hand.  As a warrior who lived of the coin from job to job, Hawke easily gravitated to easy money whenever possible.

“It could.  I seem to recall she said the limit was a few thousand.  That would certainly make getting through the city easier.”

“What is so special about the city that you’re worried about that thing not working,” Hawke tossed a thumb at the phone.  “and how much money we have?” 

Cullen felt a trickle of sweat drip off his nose, spurring him to get walking again.  “It’s the largest city you can imagine.  I recall that Praxis said only a little more than 600,000 actually live there, but the number of visitors to the gambling halls can have the numbers swell upwards to three, even six million depending on the season.”

That was the key part he had been missing in his earlier depictions.  Laying out exactly how many people there were finally garnered him a few gasps of surprise and an impressed whistle from Alistair. 

“So many people, and no magic.  No mages.”  Mahanon became thoughtful, "Bull, do you think that enchanted item from Solas still works?"

"Hmm, good thinking Boss.  It’s worth a try.  Stand back some and tell me what you see."  Bull put a hand on Krem's shoulder and Mahanon backed away several paces.  When he stopped, Bull put something in his mouth then vanished.  

"It still works!  Well, sort of.  Krem is visible, but you're completely gone."  Magazine approached the last spot he saw Bull with an outstretched hand.  "There you are."

“You got that from Solas?”  The revelation made Cullen wonder what meetings he’d been excluded from to not know about such a spell. 

“Yeah, Leliana’s people got a hold of it.”  Bull popped back into view.  "Hard to talk while biting down."

Krem sniggered at Bull’s comment while Cullen sighed in relief.  "That makes things easier if we come across any city guards, you’ll be able to stay out of sight."

“Hey, what’s that up ahead?” 

Cullen followed Mahanon’s finger but couldn’t make out what he was pointing to at first.  If he didn’t already know what it looked like, he would have missed the thin metal entirely.  “It’s the fence!  Thank the Maker, we’re almost out of here.”

They jogged another hundred yards before the chain-link fence was clearly visible.  Small metal signs dotted its length, warning of the dangerous area they wished to escape.

“This is it?  This is the wall-barrier-thing they put up to keep people out?”  Hawke was incredulous as he scanned up and down the fence’s length.  His eyes were met with nothing but more rocks and desert. “This is how they keep people away?”

“I suppose there’s greater understanding as to what ‘High-Explosives Test Range’ means.  Aw, look, the there’s even a cute little skull.”  Alistair read one the signs.

“Something the matter?”  The rumble in Bull’s voice was pleasant, even if he was picking up on Cullen’s unease.  Cullen wished he’d spoken more with him, perhaps tried to visit him before he became so attached to Praxis. 

He brushed the thought aside, “It seems easy enough to scale.”

“You sound hesitant.”  Said Bull.

Shrugging his shoulders, Cullen approached the fence.  “Nothing is ever easy.  I wonder…” 

His fingers clawed into the metal and he pulled upward, the thin metal strips sunk into his flesh to rub against his bones.  The fence wobbled under his weight and it wasn’t until his hand wrapped over the top that his fears were realized. 

“Cullen, there’s a flashing light over here.”  Mahanon called out, then Alistair joined, “One over here too!”

“Then we need to hurry.  The guards have been alerted.”

“Couldn’t you have given us a warning before you triggered the alarm?!”  Hawke ran at Bull who hoisted him up and over the fence.

There wasn’t time to argue.  They all helped one another over and despite Cullen tossing them in their current predicament, followed him at break neck speed. 

Cullen shouted over his shoulder, "We need to get away from the fence!  Bull, hide!" 

It wasn't more than ten minutes before a low hum began in the distance that steadily and quickly grew louder.  A large orb of metal flew across the sky, clearly seeking out whoever triggered the alarm.  Once overhead, it made wide circles over them.

Cullen slowed to a walk.  "May as well take a breather," he pointed to the helicopter, "they know where we are and we can't outrun that."

Alistair shrugged, waving his open arms at the lack of options.  "Then what do we do?"  

"Try and talk our way out of this.  One thing Praxis stressed was to not be taken into custody."  The group agreed for Bull to remain 'out of sight' and they plucked Mahanon's braids out to better hide his ears.  “We’ll comply with whatever they ask, but if they try to arrest us, Bull can be our back up.  They’ll never expect it.”

Stress, anxiety.  They sent tremors through Cullen’s hands.  He left Hawke to finish Mahanon’s hair to speak reassurances to the others to help them keep their calm.  The helicopter remained in orbit and a new noise rumbled in the distance, steadily growing louder.  Four vehicles came into view within a matter of minutes. 

Krem took deep breaths and tried to shake the tension out of his arms.  They’d all seen what a small group of these people were able to do with limited supplies.  Their imagination couldn’t stretch far enough to guess what they could face here in the soldiers’ native land.  Four vehicles.  Cullen prayed to the Maker that Bull would be able to give them an edge if things went sour. 

“Stay calm, no matter what they say.”  Cullen gave the final reminder for the group as the vehicles rolled to a stop.

Ten soldiers exited the vehicles.  They all wore clothing in tan hues that matched the landscape.  Their expressions were stern, made difficult to read with large blackened glasses.  Each one carried a weapon at the ready. 

The first to speak carried a small weapon which he kept sheathed at his side.  “You boys lost or something?”

The team of soldiers cautiously made a circle around the group.  Once close enough, one of them shouted, “Oh, sweet baby Jesus!  What the fuck is that smell?”

“Smells like your mom.” Another countered. 

“Lock it up.”  The leader, Hernandez, according to tag on his uniform, approached Cullen and took a whiff.  “Shit son.  Do you know what a bath is or do you just soak in trash juice on purpose?  God damn.”  Stepping closer, he inspected Cullen with a critical eye.  “How’d you lot get out here?”

Cullen focused on mimicking Praxis’ accent - the retroflexed ‘r’s and uncanny twang.  “We don’t remember.” 

“Convenient.  You touch my fence?”

“Yes.”

“Sir, look at this one over here.”  Dread punched the breath out of Cullen as a solider called Hernandez over to Mahanon.  “Look at his eyes.  He’s higher than a fucking kite, this one.”

After examining the large elven eyes, Hernandez calmly turned back to Cullen.  “What the Hell kind of drugs you boys doing out here?”  There wasn’t time to answer before Hernandez gave a curt command.  “Strip search ‘em.”

Krem was the only one to react.  He removed his gauntlets and tossed them to the ground, clearly familiar with the expectation.  When he began working loose the buckles of his armor, the others followed suit.  A soldier partnered with each person, examining the articles and turning out all pockets.  Anything that was found was either set next to the pile of clothes or handed over to  Hernandez. 

Being down to their smalls wasn’t enough.  The final part of the process involved bright purple gloves and fingers in tight spaces with the command to ‘cough’.  At least the gloves were changed for each person.  The entire additional step made Cullen wonder at how often things were found shoved in a person’s ass crack. 

“Sixty dollars, an apartment key, and ramshackle armor.  No cell phone, no drugs, no keys.”  Hernandez shook his head bemused at his soldier’s report.    

Cullen breathed a sigh of relief that Bull held the cell phone.  They could afford to have everything else taken from them, but not that.

“You have weapons, but I think my boss would laugh at me if I confiscated any of this stuff.  Swords?  What are you, LARPers?  You know, it’s easily another hundred miles until you hit civilization again.  What were you trying to do out here?”  Sensing he wasn’t going to get a straight answer from Cullen, Hernandez moved to Hawke.  “You care to share something with me, son?”

 _Of all the people in our group, why Hawke?_   The others shifted their weight in similar unease.  Cullen tried to distract their interrogator, “Sir, you’ll not get a straight answer from him.  He’s- “

“I think he can speak for himself.”  He sniffed at Hawke, “How’d you get out here?”

Deadpan, Hawke answered.  “I rode a dragon to see a witch.  She used a necklace to send me here.  A shit trip if you ask me.  I’m naked and no one’s offered me a blowjob.” 

Hernandez backed away with an agitated groan.    

“Sir?  Are we taking them in?”

“No.  There’s no reason to take them into custody, but I don’t want to toss ‘em on the Strip either.  They’re obviously in need of some kind of detox.”

“Lulo Village then?”

“Yeah, but take ‘em in the back of the truck.  I don’t want them stinking up the van.  Take their pictures to add to the roster.”  Hernandez handed Krem the card with Dorian’s picture.  “Here’s your key, Mr. Pavus.  As a warning to all of you, don’t come back out here again or we will incarcerate you.  Summers and DeVenge here will take you to a homeless camp were you can get some help.”

Before their departure, pictures were taken of their faces, then gear and personal items were returned before being herded to the back of a truck.  There weren’t any seats, but when they sat on the raised edge, they were told to ‘sit flat’ within the confines of the short walls. 

“You guys don’t have to pack it in like that, you can spread out to this corner too.”  One of the soldiers pointed to the spot they left for Bull.

Hawke reached over and patted the invisible Bull on the shoulder, “I can’t leave my best friend behind.”

The soldier screwed up his face but didn’t respond to the statement.  Assuming the entire group to be high, or just plain crazy, the soldiers were eager to be rid of them.  The feeling was mutual.

The truck swayed heavily over the desert sand until they hit the main road.  Although the ride was smoother, the speed was still daunting.  Krem and Cullen, perhaps Bull too, were the only ones who didn’t hunch lower into the vehicle. 

Alistair eased up a little after a few miles, “Cullen?  I thought you said the nearest town was Vegas.  Where’s this Lulo Village they’re taking us to?”

“Who cares?  It’s out of the damn desert and closer to food and somewhere to lay down.  I don’t give a fuck if they dump us off at a funeral pyre, I need a break from running around in the fucking sand.”  Hawke scratched at his rear, still feeling the discomfort from the earlier search. 

Cullen laughed, mirthless.  Although they traveled toward civilization, he felt they were moving further from their objective.  But, what was that anymore?  What were they?  A mournful Inquisitor, a burnt out Champion, a cynical Warden.  And he? 

He was tired of living for others, not sparing a moment for himself.  He thought on the long hours he poured into the Inquisition.  Being defeated in battle would have been one thing, but this?  He wasn’t even in the world of the Maker.  What good was his faith anymore? 

Realization dawned like a stake through the heart.

The Maker, Andraste, all of it, abandoned him when the Mark was taken away.  What purpose was there now? 

“You alright Commander?”  Krem shouted over the din of the vehicle.

“Yes.  I’m fine.”  Cullen relaxed then leaned heavier against the wall separating them from the soldiers riding inside.  The world caught up to him all at once.  Accepting that his purpose in life ceased to exist, he fell into a deep sleep. 

 

 

Harsh banging on metal jolted Cullen awake. 

“Alright junkies.  Hop out.  We’re here.”  The soldiers lowered the back side of the truck, making it easier for them to get out with their bulky armor. 

A soldier pointed to a bright yellow building resembling a guard shack.  “The entrance is over there, be sure to register at the security check point.” 

The area was wide open, desolate but had more brush than the desert, even a few trees.  Staring down the road, a dense town took shape not too far away.  The sharp outline of clustered buildings cut into the horizon.  The sun was setting and the bright orange almost looked pretty.  Cullen was able to see the silhouette of the stratosphere out beyond the smaller buildings.  They weren’t near the city center, but at least they were on the outskirts. 

“I smell food!”  Hawke eagerly headed for the entrance. 

There were too many people milling about and the soldiers were intent to see them enter the ‘village’ there wasn’t a chance to wonder closer to the city or let Bull reveal himself.  The village looked more like a mabari kennel than a place meant for people.  It was enclosed by a metal fence, linked chains allowing the interior to be visible.  The tents beyond were vibrant in colors, all thin looking fabric, but certainly waterproof.  Clothing hung up to dry, bags, bottles, and boxes were cluttered in heaps near each tent.  Spread throughout the open space in the center were camp fires and chairs.  Cullen scoffed at the idea of needing a chair to sit by a campfire. 

“Hey!”  Hawke called them all over to the entrance.  A thin man with a long beard stood in the guard shack.  “Paul here says that they have an open spot for us to use.”

Cullen felt a small jab to his hand.  Looking down, Bull’s phone plopped in his hand.  “Paul, are we able to charge this here?”

“You’ll have to check the wire box for the right charger, but yeah, we got some car batteries jury-rigged to take care of that for ya.  You guys plan on interviewing at the casinos or something?”  Paul waved at their attire.

“Yeah, something.”  Cullen thanked the man for his help and the group signed up for the night guard rotation the week following, a requirement of all residents of Lulo. 

“Keep in mind we got rules here.  No stealing or drug use within the village or you get kicked out.  No one’s going to be impressed by your funny looking costumes, so don’t think that’ll save you from a beating if you break the rules.”  Paul sniffed the air, but didn’t react as harshly as the soldiers had.  “We got some solar showers out back for you to clean up.  Don’t waste the water, or you get kicked out.”

The clear patch of area they were assigned measured three times the size of the bed of the truck.  They weren’t given a tent but were supplied a few second-hand blankets.  Despite the ‘no stealing’ rule, while the team cleaned up, someone always stayed at the lot to watch their gear.  Hawke found food and brought it back to the group, despite the many offers to borrow a chair by one of the campfires. 

It wasn’t until the food was passed around that they remembered Bull.  It was impossible for him to eat without being seen.  

Krem wrapped up the extra food in a brown paper bag, "I'll hold on to it."

It was difficult for Cullen to remember the last time he'd eaten.  As badly as he felt for Bull, he was thankful the disciplined Qunari was the one in the tight spot. 

Considering the meal came from charity, it was better than what the Inquisition received when on the march.  Meat, cheese, bread, apple, and a colorful bag of potato thins.  Hawke even gathered a variety of drinks.  Cullen chose a bottle of water. 

"Wow, paint my ass and call me a warhound.  A meal and some bus tickets.  So this is your 'fabulous' Las Vegas?"  Mocked Hawke.  It was a miracle the words found passage through his food packed mouth.   

Cullen laughed as Hawke grimaced at the unnaturally sweet drink from a can used to wash everything down.  "Hawke, you can slow down you know."

“Actually, no. I want to know what we’re doing next.  You may laugh, but I believe this may be the first time I’d like to have a plan going into this.” 

Cullen rubbed his chin, thinking a bit before answering.  “Once the phone is charged, we should be able to have Sonny direct us to Praxis’ apartment.”

“Praxis?”  A graveled, strained voice called out.  It was weak.  Had they not all been quietly eating, the name would have easily been missed. 

All eyes fell on Cullen, wondering ‘do we answer?’. 

“Sir?”  Cullen moved closer to the pile of clothes from which the sound came.  “Do you know her?”

The laugh came dark and oily.  It bubbled like tar, cracking now and again with spittle.  A coughing fit over took the man, giving Cullen a change to assess who he was talking to.  As much as others had complained of the Thedas odor, this man had a distinct piss smell, musty and aged into the clothing.  What clothing he did have was dingy with food and vomit stains.  Clumps of his hair were missing and what little remained was thin and matted.  The man was a living horror, like a months old dead rat scrapped from the bottom of a ship’s hold.

A few shallow breaths and the man turned his head toward Cullen, the effort clearly a strain on his few working muscles.  “Sunset?  Oh, yes.  I know her.” 

By now, the entire group huddled as close as they dare to the rotting man. 

“Bitch.  Thinks she is better, but she isn’t.”  he chuckled and it rattled deep within his lungs.  “She isn’t.  I know.  Half for me.  Half for her.  I know.”  This time he laughed hard and loud with more energy than Cullen thought possible in his current state.  “She thought he wouldn’t tell.  But I know.”

“He’s delusional.”  Whispered Krem. 

Cullen was eager to ignore the man, but he clearly knew Praxis and he couldn’t pass up the chance to make things easier in finding her.  “Who are you?”

“Me?  I am the only reason she exists!  No child escapes their betters, respect your elders – stupid cunt.  Should have beat that into her harder.”  The man spit excess saliva from his mouth.  “Ungrateful.  Too good to give me money, but at least I got my fix.”

“Praxis bought you drugs?”  Slowly the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together for Cullen.

“Don’t call her that.  She should have my name.  I raised her!  Not that whore.  I disciplined her!”  The man trashed wildly as he shouted.  “She wouldn’t be shit without me!”

“Kenneth!”  The on duty security shouted across the yard.  “This is your second warning.  Calm down or I’m calling the cops.  Everyone’s getting real tired of your shit.”

“Piss off!”  Anger, then peels of laughter had Kenneth pulling out a clear bag of white powder.  His voice lowered and he leaned back into his pile of filth.  “I’m going to have some father-daughter time.”

“Maker’s bloody piss.  Praxis’ father is a raving addict?”  Hawke’s eyes bulged in shock.  “And _she_ supplies him with the drugs?!”

“Dammit, Kenneth what the….”  The man pulling security came by and upon seeing Kenneth licking the powder off his wet fingers, went into a fury.  “You brought drugs in here!  Son of a bitch!”

The way the man shouted, he included Cullen’s group.  “No, sir.  He already had that.  We don’t even know what it is.”

“Bullshit.  Get out!  All of you!”  Although on the scrawny side, the man had no qualms in shoving and gesturing for them to leave.

A woman came running from the main gate.  “It’s Kenneth again?  I’ve already called the cops.”

“Make sure they get this lot too!  They brought drugs in here!” 

The shouting had drawn the attention of the other residents in the village.  The accusations turned the bystanders into a mob, eager to see justice served to the offenders.  The good order of the village had been disrupted and they were ready to purge by any means necessary.  Cullen and his group were quickly surrounded by incoherent shouting and herded toward the exit.  Cullen only had to hope that Bull was able to keep up considering how dense the crowd grew around them.

Beyond the fence line, the shouting didn’t stop.  A rock was thrown and nailed Alistair in the back.  That began the downpour of rocks and sticks.  They tried to run away but were blocked off by two black vehicles with red and blue flashing lights. 

“There!  Get them!  They killed Kenneth!” 

Not good.

“Run!”  Screamed Cullen.

Dusk had already fallen and luckily, the darkness grew quickly.  Cullen ran blindly, not caring who was with him, if anyone kept up.  All he could focus on was reaching the outcroppings of the town proper beyond, praying he would be able to get lost in the alleys. 

The city guards sprinted after him in hot pursuit.  They shouted commands which he ignored.  Cullen’s stomach churned painfully.  After all they had been through, the unfinished meal hadn’t been enough.  He opened his stride to put more distance between him and his pursuers.  Each stride ripped through his core as if the very muscles of his body were being stripped off.  He half expected to trip over his own intestines.    

A hand grabbed his and he followed.  Overwhelming relief flooded him when he succumbed to the whim of the other person.  _Finally, someone else to lead._

On, and on they pushed forward.  Another joined them, who, he wasn’t sure.  They just kept going.  Sinking footsteps in the sand soon turned to jerky full on sprints when they hit the hard surface of the town roads.  Like cockroaches, they sought out the darkness, desperate for a safe place to hide.

Right at the moment Cullen thought he would collapse of exhaustion, the hand jerked him one final time, slamming his body into a wall and then covering his mouth after he slouched to the ground. 

The warm, thick fingers felt like heaven and tasted like the sea.  The pressure made his mind swim, reminding him of how alone he was in the absence of the Maker.  His lung grasped urgently for air.  The sound hid how badly his heart wanted to cry. 

They sat for what felt like an eternity.

“I think they gave up.”  Hawke removed his hand and spoke low at Cullen’s side. 

“As have I.”

“What?”  Hawke seethed at Alistair. 

“I am not doing this anymore.   I _can’t_ do this anymore.”

“Says the man who raised an army to fight an Archdemon.  Just because things aren’t going well, doesn’t mean you have to be so dramatic.”

“Says the man who set Kirkwall on fire.”

“You have to admit that it definitely improved the area.”  Hawke nudged Cullen for support.  “Just ask Cullen.”

“Alright, _Commander_ what do we do now?”  Alistair sat down, still breathing rapidly from the run.  “They’re not going to give up.  Not completely.  We’ve been branded murderers.”

“So what?  I’ve been called worse.  Besides, their healers will realize the stupid bastard overdosed anyway.”

“No, he didn’t.  Bull strangled him, I watched it happen while that piss-boy of a guard yelled at us.  Even with Bull invisible, I’ve seen enough death to know what happened and they’ll figure it out too.”  Alistair paused a moment, the knowledge of Bull’s act setting in deeper. 

“Andraste preserve us.  Bull murdered his lover’s father.”  Alistair laughed sardonically.  “Can’t wait for that reunion.  Assuming she’s even alive.”  

Cullen looked around the alley.  Trash canisters and random odds and ends.  But no other companions.  “Where is everyone?”

“Lost them.  They are probably hiding like we are.  We could search for them - “

Alistair interrupted Hawke, “But we can’t reasonably wonder around calling their names, the guardsmen could still be out there.  Face it, we’re completely alone.”

The final word punched Cullen in the gut.  Flashes of his time imprisoned in Kinloch all those years ago, ran through his mind’s eye.  The isolation, the fear – the insurmountable depression.  He sank further against the wall. 

“No coin, no _anything_ that will help us find them, or they us.  Alistair’s right.”  Cullen closed his eyes and waited for Hawke’s response, half expecting him to try and rally their spirits one last time. 

Instead, Hawke took up a seat next to him with a sigh.  “Suits me.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few strips of paper.  “Wanna ride the bus somewhere?”

 

And they did.  Hopping off in the center of Las Vegas, Cullen enjoyed watching the bewitched faces of Hawke and Alistair as they absorbed the wonders of the brightly lit city.  They wondered for about an hour before they were stopped by large party of friends out for a night on the town. 

At first they asked for pictures, impressed by the ‘costumes’.  Hawke received the most attention with his tight leathers. 

Picture taking turned into drinks. 

Drinks turned into an invitation to a private club. 

And the privacy of a dimly lit room led to drunken bets.

All three of them readily accepted, amused in trying best the other, and living as if tomorrow would never come.  Their world was lost and there was nothing they could do about.  For too many years, for too long, each of them had forgone simple pleasures.  Fuck, even the basic desire to have a mate had been brushed aside for the greater good.

No longer. 

They had easily blended into the group of party goers.  So long as they posed, groped, kissed, and performed, food and drinks came free.  Slips of money were even stuffed into their pockets and even their breeches.  Kissing, petting and pinching eventually led to Alistair pulling his cock out.  This gained them the most attention.  He was labeled ‘uncut’ and a wonder to behold.  The requests to see all three of them poured in.

That was what led to Alistair lying flat on a table, naked.  Cullen sat at the head, still wearing his mane, but his metal armor had long disappeared.  Women and men fingered Alistair’s hair, chest and arms.  Hawke stood behind Cullen.  He wore his breeches and a peppering of lipstick marks over the front and back of his torso.  Someone had given him a bottle of wine, which he drank directly from with gusto.

Hawke leaned on his shoulder and rasped in his ear, low and heated.  “Cullen.  Damn you’re hot when you’re eating a man out.  Fuck.  I want to whore you out just to watch you work.”

The smell of wine and rich deserts mingled with Alistair’s sweaty musk.  Cullen hadn’t paused which put Hawke’s face right next to Alistair’s sac.  He flicked out a tongue which made the Warden jerk in surprise. 

Hawke gave a low chuckle then ducked under Alistair’s leg to pop up beside his hip.  All the better to tease and kiss the tip of the man’s cock.  “Tell me fair knight, how much would you pay to have me suck your dick?”

Hawke scanned the crowd, encouraging donations to execute the feat.  Once the pattern of pay-to-see began, Hawke had made a point of taking advantage.  His years spent with Varric had not been wasted in terms of learning showmanship to excite a crowd. 

“I’ve got forty bucks!”  A woman tossed money on the table. 

Hawke looked bored. 

“I’ll throw in another twenty!”

“Here’s sixty, do it! Do it!  Do it!”

The crowd won and Hawke made sure their money was well spent.  He dove forward to take all of Alistair down to the base.  The blonde howled and arched his back which further pleased the crowd. 

Alistair sunk his fingers into Hawke’s mane, “Oh fuck your beard feels amazing.  Do it again, do it again!”

They were quite the scene.  A spectacle.  It made Cullen harder than he thought humanly possible.  He reached the point that he had to neglect Alistair so he could pull himself free again.  The sudden contact, the squeeze and pull of his palm, had him seeing stars.  He fell back in his chair and watched Hawke blow Alistair. 

The bread accentuated Hawke’s lips as they wrapped around the shaft.  The way they drug over the skin as he traveled to the tip had Cullen trying to mimic the sensation with his own fingers.  The crowd moved and spoke around them.  They were easy to place in the background as the only bright light was centered above Alistair.  More pictures.  More flashes.  It made the entire experience all the more ethereal.  That and the free alcohol on a mostly empty stomach. 

When was the last time he drank this much?

When was the last time he _drank?_

Everything felt good.  It felt right.  Calm.  Pleasant.  Hawke sunk down deep, his hands squeezed and pressed Alistair up to him, cupping his balls against his cheek.  He looked like a savage slurping the bottom of a peanut butter jar, so eager, so hungry. 

Alistair tapped Hawke’s shoulder, his voice breathless and hazy.  “Hey.  Hey.”  He swallowed thickly, “Get up here and fuck me.  I need it.” 

“Cullen neglecting you?”  Hawke shot a friendly chiding look over at Cullen.  He raised his voice and waved dramatically at their audience.  “Who’s ready for some sex?!”

The suggestion was met with enthusiastic shouts, whistles, and more cash.  A small bottle of lube appeared on the table as seamlessly as though someone asked for a shirt.  Of course a party would have lube, who doesn’t bring one to every soiree? 

Hawke bent down and whispered in Alistair’s ear.  Alistair answered by pulling the man down for a greedy kiss, sucking on his tongue then biting on his lip.  Scooting over, Alistair made room for Hawke to lay down.  On his back and with the help of Alistair, Hawke removed the last of his leathers.  Alistair bit at the newly exposed flesh, patch by patch, initiating it to their debauchery. 

Cullen felt compelled.  He knew that Hawke got a strange kick out of the pain, but he couldn’t stand by idle.  Leaving his chair, he slipped next to Hawke to follow Alistair’s destructive path.  He kissed and licked at the reddened skin.  As more of the Champion was exposed, Cullen massaged and caressed the larger areas.  Fresh jolts of lust sparked in his core when Hawke flexed.  The act was most likely for their audience, however, Cullen appreciated it nonetheless.

Fully nude, Hawke grinned at Alistair, “Time to hop on and feel the power of a champion.”

Hawke slicked up and Alistair straddled him, facing his feet.  First, he let his tip play at the man’s hole, poking in a bit and slathering the oil all over his crevasse.  Tired of the teasing, Alistair lowered himself, taking him halfway, then bobbing slowly to adjust.  Cullen watched hungrily as his old Templar friend took the champion inch, by glorious inch. 

Cullen ached with need.  He wanted to be filled.  He wanted to feel someone in control, making him take it, making him useful.  When Alistair sat completely flush, Cullen whimpered, knowing the fullness he was missing, especially from Hawke. 

Alistair leaned back, bracing himself on the table and using his feet to push back and forth so he could ride Hawke with measured ease.  Cullen was mesmerized by how well Alistair took it.  He nudged Alistair to move his legs wider apart.   He took Alistair’s sac in his mouth, gumming at his balls and licking at his taint. 

Overwhelmed, Alistair couldn’t move and Hawke had to take up the movement.  Cullen recognized that familiar rock, that sassy, lazy way Hawke managed to fuck, as if he knew he was great at sex. 

“Jealous down there Cullen?  Why don’t you join me?” 

Alistair laughed, “Cullen doesn’t top.”

“Would you want it?”  Cullen felt his cheeks burn red, but his curiously was stronger than his embarrassment.  “I don’t mean both of us at once….I mean…”

“Yes!  Ooooh~, please, yes.  Ever since I took it from Bull, I’ve been dying for that feeling again.  Do this for me.  Pretty please?” 

Cullen hesitated, reluctant.  Shaky.  He wasn’t a natural like Hawke, nor taught by a sexually savvy Antivan Crow.  He rubbed at his neck, nervous, and impossibly shy.  “I’ve never topped before.”

There were intrigued gasps and gossiping amongst the throng of onlookers.  Thankfully there were no teasing remarks, but the room felt as though it held its breath, holding onto the hope that Cullen _would_ join in. 

“It’s not hard.”  Cooed Hawke in a rare show of gentleness.  He almost seemed sweet.  “Give him what he wants.  C’mon, I’ll be right in there with you.” 

An anxious numbness filled his chest, Cullen moved forward, but still uncertain if he was willing to commit.  Hawke resumed his rocking.  Seeing what Cullen had felt so many, many times was fresh and exiting. 

“Join me.”  The temptation of Hawke’s siren song drew him closer.  Closer.  “That’s is, give it a little try.”

Cullen climbed the table and sat on his knees, straddling one of Hawke’s legs.  They were such a mangle of bodies he felt that he was working through a knotted ball of string.  The excitement of the crowd spurred him on, giving him confidence that he wasn’t making it worse. 

He watched Alistair’s ring of muscle pulse around Hawke’s cock.  The warden whispered, raspy and low, “Please Cullen.  _Please~_ ”

Pressing his tip next to Hawke felt wonderful.  Pushing his way in, seeing the man stretch open for him, stole his breath away.  Wedging himself deeper, and deeper was pure ecstasy.  Growling, he cried out to the Maker then grabbed Alistair’s hips to steady himself. 

A wave of flashing lights exploded around him.  He didn’t mind, he was struggling to find equilibrium.  An arm wrapped over his shoulder and Alistair sat up to consume his lips.  He sighed and moaned into Cullen’s mouth, wiggling, begging to feel more, “Yes, more, _more…”_

Cullen slid out partly, then back in.  The tightness was incredible.  Pulling out all the way, he relished Alistair’s whimper.  Thrusting back in he thought his heart would explode when his cock rubbed against Hawke’s, both of them gliding against each other, fighting for what little space there was.  Cullen moved to have their dicks rolling on and around each other while buried deep.  Alistair was reduced to panting and begging like a dog for them to never stop. 

This was a new angle, new sensation, new everything for Cullen.  He loved it.  Falling prey to his feral side, he thrust harder, quicker.

Hawke’s voice took on a deeper, harsher tone.  “Yes.  Fuck his pretty little hole, yeah, feels good doesn’t it?  Fill it.  Fucking fill him.  I want to fuck him covered in your hot cum.  Yes, Cullen, cum for me.”

His core tightened and his toes curled.  Cullen grabbed Alistair’s cock roughly, pumping in time with his thrusts.  The intensity of his lust boiled in his blood and rang in his ears.  Harder and harder he pounded.  Hawke grabbed Alistair to keep him from worming away.  In moments, Alistair’s hot spray shot across his chiseled abs in thick white globs.  The visual set Cullen off as he spurted while lodge within.  The added heat jutted around him and he slowed his pace to enjoy it.  Thin drips made their way out to trickle down his balls and land on Hawke. 

Hawke was of a single mind, he took over with a ruthless determination.  Cullen slumped to sit on his ass and let Hawke take what he wanted.  Merciless and hard, he slammed into that cream filled ass with punishing force.  With an unhinged howl, Hawke gave one final thrust to cum deep in his partner.  Cullen watched as the champion’s balls squeezed and pulsed throughout the orgasm.  It was fucking beautiful, no matter what that damn Chantry sister thought.

Whistles and applause signaled the end of their ‘performance’.  The crowd thinned and a few considerate folks offered wet paper towels and a few pats on the back for a ‘great show’.  Hawke eased Alistair off of him and cleaned up himself up quickly. 

Cullen reached out to Alistair, helping the unsteady man float back to reality by holding him to his chest.  “You alright?”

“Yeah…. _[gasp]_ yeah.  Oh, wow.  Zevran will hate that he missed this.  Oh, Maker.  This was… _[panting]_ incredible.”

Cullen searched for Hawke in the darkened club and found him charging five dollars for people take pictures with him naked.  “Well, it’s nice to know that Hawke isn’t the only one getting enjoyment out of this.”

Alistair laughed then sat up straight, looking for some of the damp towels.  “Well, that was fun, but what do we do now?”

Cullen raked a hand over the table and collected a fistful of cash.  “I don’t know, but at least one of our problems is solved.”


	13. Backed into a Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny turns out to be less helpful than Bull had hoped.

“Son of a bitch!”  Krem used every ounce of his strength to catch his breath.  His chest heaved wildly and his knees gave out the second he stopped running. 

“I can’t keep running like this.”  As lean and adept at running as Mahanon was, he too suffered under the strain. 

Bull remained calm as his heartrate slowed, his body accustomed to following orders.  He’d been in similar situations in Seheron and learned to recover from exhaustion quietly.  Those who didn’t ended up dead. 

Peering around the corner, he verified that they were alone before removing the invisibility rune. 

“Oh, thank the Creators you’re still with us.”  Mahanon sighed with relief.  After a few more deep breaths.  “What about Cullen, Hawke, a-and…Alistair?” 

“No sign of ‘em.”  Bull shook his head.  Judging by the maze of buildings around them it would be near impossible to find them.  “If they were caught, there’s nothing we can do.  Otherwise, we should assume that they will continue with the plan and head for the city.”

Krem nodded in agreement, still panting open mouthed and clutching his side.

A part of Bull was glad to be rid of them.  Each one’s mental fortitude had been slowly fraying since the loss of the Inquisitor’s mark.  The journey to this strange world only accelerated their detachment and had Bull questioning their resolve.  He’d worry about finding them later.

The buildings around them were spaced close together and made it difficult to see the taller ones Cullen identified earlier as the heart of the city.  Krem slumped against a wall, “I suppose we camp out here until we have some daylight?”

As if waiting for Krem’s comment, a street light flickered to life above them, brighter than a flame, even brighter than illumination orbs mages cast.  The three of them retreated further into the shadows of the alley. 

Bull examined his remaining companions.  Krem’s determination persisted, however he was exhausted.  Mahanon continued to be indifferent about their situation, hardly caring that half of them were missing.  An attitude that never would have occurred when he was the Inquisitor.  Bull was empathetic toward the man, he too once lost meaning in life.  Where Mahanon was mentally, Bull knew to be a dark and dangerous place. 

Although they were tired, they needed to move on and accomplish something.  After having achieved an objective, perhaps Mahanon may see a glimmer of hope once more.    

Pulling out the phone, Bull mimicked Cullen’s command tone when addressing the thing.  “Hey Sonny – take me to Praxis.”

‘ _Would you like to go to ‘home’ or to ‘work’?’_

“Home.”

_‘You are currently 20.6 miles from the Mandarin Oriental Tower.  Walking will take six hours and forty-two minutes.  You will arrive at fourteen minutes past midnight.  Would you like for me to schedule an Uber to arrive earlier?’_

“What if we get there and she’s dead too?”  There was a hint of bitterness in Mahanon’s tone.

It was an ill hidden hope that someone else suffered as he did.  It was a natural reaction and Bull decided not to take offense. 

Krem pulled out a card the soldiers mistakenly gave him, reading the name scrolled across it.  “Look, the name matches.  Those guys said this was a key right?  If they mistook me for Dorian then maybe we can use this to get in even if she isn’t there.”

Bull gave a curt nod.  “Alright, if we want to get there quick, we need to find this Uber, whatever the fuck it is.”

_‘Define Uber: Uber is a convenient, inexpensive and safe taxi service.  Hire a private driver to pick you up & take you to your destination with the tap of a button on your phone. The nearest driver is often at your pickup location within minutes. Not only is this an on-demand – ‘_

“Yeah, okay, alright, stop!”  Bull growled at the phone, learning that there were certain annoyances in its usefulness. 

Mahanon queried with heightened curiosity.  “How long would an Uber take?” 

_‘In current traffic conditions, twenty-nine minutes.’_

Krem’s mood exploded with energy, “Chief.  Imagine a nice bed, shit, even a floor, in a room, with walls…let’s get the Uber.”

Mahanon’s gaze swirled at their surroundings - strange buildings, odd lights, and weird noises from all directions.  He rubbed at his shoulders, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.” 

With the help of Sonny, they were able to navigate through the prompts and hire a truck to come pick them up, keeping in mind that Bull needed to remain cloaked by the rune. 

 

The trip into the city was a nightmare.  This truck drove as quickly as the soldiers’ but this time they weren’t crossing a barren dessert.  This time there were other vehicles weaving around them, coming directly at them, yet missing by inches.  The buildings grew taller and tighter together, the lights covered greater expanses and shone brighter.  The range of colors was breathtaking, some of them Bull had never even seen in a rainbow.  The number of signs for businesses was staggering.  The swirling vortex of color, light, and sound made for a more harrowing trip than when he passed into the Fade. 

It wasn’t long before they were in the city and thankfully the density of cars and people slowed down their progress.  The noise was constant, filled with talking, music, and unidentifiable sounds.  Looking into the crowd, he found everyone happy and laughing as they moved seamlessly within the throng. 

Krem and Mahanon jumped from the truck, then walked to a calm corner of the street.  As Bull disembarked, he scanned the nearby buildings for the one they were looking for.  Not finding anything even close, when he caught up to Krem, he punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow!  Easy Chief.  The driver said the traffic is backed up real bad up ahead.  Said we should finish on foot.  We only have $30 left by the way.” 

Sonny’s voice chimed in, ‘ _In 300 feet, turn right onto South Las Vegas Boulevard.’_   

“Thank the Creators for Sonny.  This city is a nightmare labyrinth that would vex the Dread Wolf himself.”  Mahanon pressed his back against the building, casting a wary eye at the mass of humans. 

Bull examined the crowd as well.  He felt like a boat adrift in an ocean.  Taking in his surroundings, he imagined the number people that could fit in the massive buildings around them, using numbers he never thought he’d need.  Never had he seen so many people in one place.  He didn’t know so many people _could_ fit in one place. 

The diversity of skin, clothing, hair, shapes, ages was astounding.  Thin people wore ratty clothing with gaping holes exposing perfect skin while their necks and wrists were decorated with gold.  An estimated a third of them walked while speaking through a phone.  The one sided conversation made them look like lunatics, yet noone remarked on the scene. 

“Hey, hey, hey!  What’s going my brother.  You looking for some fine women to show you around town?  I got some ladies that will set you up real nice.”  A clean shaven portly man approached Mahanon with a hand full of playing cards.  Upon inspection, they were similar to the pornographic cards Praxis’ team passed around with nude pictures, but these were stamped with a phone number and listed acceptable methods of payment. 

“Hey man, I can even talk to my boss, cut you a deal for you and your friend. Two for one special.”

Krem took a few of the cards, Mahanon shook his head.  “No thank you, we’re not interested.”

Looking at the cards, then back, the hustler reached into another pocked and pulled out a different set, these displaying men with massive erections. 

“Hey, I got whatever you want man.  Look at these guys, they can oil you up and show you how to live the good life man.  You call this number and they get you right.”  Then the man was gone, off to advertise his ‘wares’ to others within the crowd. 

“Either he has a shit ton of cards or there are a lot more guys like him.”  Krem pointed to the ground that was littered with the picture cards while pocketing the ones he’d been handed. 

Mahanon also kept his. 

Krem turned according to Sonny’s instructions, “Alright, try to keep up Chief.”

The three worked their way through the congested crowd, but with everyone moving, it was easy enough to maneuver where they wanted to go.  Bull made a game of bumping and nudging people for their surprised reactions.  It was astounding how many were oblivious to their surroundings and easily brushed off the mysterious jostle.  He seriously contemplated taking out the cloaking rune just to see if anyone noticed a big ass Quanari standing among them. 

Krem paused next to a building, Bull tapped his shoulder which cued him to explain, “Sonny wants us to cut through this building for ‘the fastest route’.”

Inside, the ceilings towered above them into a massive barrel vault that was lit with constantly changing colors reflected off the bright white surface.  Even within a building, there were more twinkling signs and loud music, but the crowd was a thinner than out on the street.  Shops lined every wall and had large elaborate displays in their windows.  Chocolate fountains, extravagant dresses, cafés with patio seating and private fountains – a true menagerie of pricey leisure. 

One song faded out and a new one warmed up.  For this song, a group of women wearing nothing but dazzling smalls and massive feathers on their heads and ass came running from hidden corners to fill the center of the promenade.  Taking up a formation, they smiled and glittered as they danced to the song.  Pedestrians paused their shopping to watch, many taking pictures with their phones.  No one minded the interruption.  After a minute, there were ‘ _oohs’_ and cheering when the ceiling displayed floating pictures of a happy couple.  Following the crowd’s attention, Bull noticed a woman with both hands on her mouth, crying her eyes out as she watched the dancers.  He pegged her as one of the women in the floating pictures.

The lead dancer broke from the group leaving the rest to continue dancing in the background.  She approached the crying woman, and went to one knee.  At that moment, Bull registered the lyrics to the song.

 _'Cause it's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do_  
Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you  
Is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice  
Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry you

_Just say I do  
Tell me right now baby_

The words exchanged between the two women were inaudible, but once they jumped into a passionate kiss, the pleased roar and clapping from the crowd confirmed that the answer had been a positive one. 

Moving along, Bull became frustrated when Krem stopped again for no reason.  The damn Vint turned to Mahanon, laughter stuttering his sentences, “Oh fuck, can-can you imagine, Bull.  Can y-you see Bull with feathers sticking out his ass, proposing to Praxis?”

Sharing his vision set Krem into a crippling fit of laughter, quickly joined by Mahanon.  Bull gave them a minute to get it out of their system.

Then another.

After too long, he pinched both of them by the ears and dragged them a few feet to get the point across.  Begrudgingly, the group continued on their way, still a few bubbles of laughter popping up now an again. 

Outside the other end of the building, Bull saw that the Uber driver had been right, the traffic was at a standstill and the crowds were impossibly thick.  Squeezing through, it dawned on Bull that not a one person smelled like a person.  The normal aroma of sweat and cured meat he associated with humans was entirely absent.  There were those who wore perfume, however it wasn’t like Orlais where the flowery scent sat on top of the body funk.  No, this was _only_ the sweet smells.  He wondered how many bathing houses there were in a city this large to accommodate this many people on a daily basis. 

Calculating the math of persons to tubs to baths was an entertaining exercise that occupied Bull until they reached the apartment. 

Mahanon looked up at the lofty glass building, “What are we waiting for?”

“Do you know how to use this as a key?”  When Mahanon indicated no, Krem cast his eyes at the front entrance.  “I want to follow someone in so I figure out how this damn thing works.”

It wasn’t long before a man walked through the double glass doors.  Following close behind, the group entered a large lobby that was sparsely furnished.  The center focus was a large desk that stationed was attended by two men.  Krem mimicked the action of his mark by flashing Dorian’s key card at them. 

“One second sir.  Can you bring your card over here please?”  The security clerk took the card in hand and compared the picture of Dorian with Krem’s visage.  He then passed it under a red light causing one of his machines to beep.  “Wow, you haven’t been here in a while.  No wonder you didn’t look familiar.  I like the new look.”  The guard gestured to Krem’s lack of a mustache.  “Apologies for the delay sir.  You have a great evening.”

“You too.”  Answered Krem quickly so as to catch up to his mark. 

The man waited by a set of closed metal doors and only nodded when Krem and Mahanon joined him.  He wore a suit similar to the one Krem made for Alistair that one night.  It struck Bull how recently that wild night had been, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. 

A ding and then they followed the man into the room with a window as the forth wall.  He tapped his card against a black square, Krem copied him.  Two lights illuminated next to the square – 12 and 26. 

A small drop in Bull’s stomach and then they were rising.  Krem and Mahanon both tried to hide their discomfort, but were doing a poor job.  Their backs pressed against one of the solid walls, gaping stares fixed on the shrinking world beyond the glass.  Fortunately, the other man kept his eyes on the ascending number display, stepping out promptly on the twelfth floor. 

When the doors closed behind the stranger, Bull removed the rune from his mouth.  He turned to press his face against the glass, causing Krem and Mahanon to loudly protest that he was going to get them killed.  Bull ignored it. 

He admired the sprawling landscape beyond, the shimmering lights showing how far the city reached.  It looked like a bucket full of stars had been spilled out over the desert.  Impressive. 

“Was the Fade like this?”  Krem asked.

Bull thought it had been meant for him, but Mahanon answered. 

“No.”  He swallowed hard to punch down his fear.  “No, it was barren.  The magic was ever present, like walking through a swamp of it.  Here, there is nothing to feel strange, but the things, the lights – it’s…”

“Fucking creepy.”  Finished Bull.  “It’s as if the humans here shouted at a rock to jump and as if from sheer fucking willpower, the damn thing did.”  He huffed then turned back to his companions just in time to see the doors open.  “This place is cesspool of chaos.”

The doors dinged, then opened on the twenty-sixth floor. Beyond the threshold, a long hallway stretched in both directions, lined with numbered doors.

“Which one?”  asked Mahanon.

Krem raised the card to a black box next to the closest door.  A red light flickered.  “Well, not that one.”  He tried two more doors – all red. 

Looking up and down the hallway, Mahanon stated, “We can’t try all of them, can we?”

An idea struck Bull and he called out, “Hey Sonny.  What is Praxis’ apartment number?”

_‘Apartment number 26-48.’_

From habit, Bull thanked Sonny.

_‘You’re welcome.’_

Bull shivered.  Sonny was helpful, but it was a little too demon-y for his taste. 

Reaching the correct door, the box flashed green and an audible click let them know the door unlocked.  Inside was dark, the only light came from city outside the wall of floor to ceiling windows.  The apartment was simple, a single room for food preparation, eating, lounging, and work.  Bull walked to the back corner of the apartment lined with bookshelves and a large desk.  Along the way, he read framed certificates, awards, military decorations.  A history of Praxis’ accomplishments guided him to the desk.  He fingered through a stack of papers.

“Sonny, what is today’s date?”

Comparing the phone’s answer with the few dates he saw, he figured they were two years old.  “I don’t think she’s been here yet.”

“She never came home?  Then where is she?”  Krem pulled a paper over to read for himself, not trusting that Bull had done the math right.  His stomach growled fiercely. 

“One thing at a time.  Hey Sonny.  Where do we get food?”

_‘Okay, one option is Perry’s Mini Mart located on the first floor of your building.  It serves a variety of ready to eat meals and is moderately priced.  Is this the one you want?’_

“That’s close.  Would you mind going with Krem?  I-I really don’t want to do that lift thing again.”  Mahanon had no shame in admitting that thing scared the piss out of him, rightly so.  Bull would never hold that against a guy.

Krem tossed up a hand, “Don’t worry about it Chief, I think I know where it is.  Saw it coming in.  I’ll be back before you know it.”

Thinking on the two men, Bull felt confident that Krem could handle himself on his own, Mahanon, not so much.  There looked to be a balcony and Bull didn’t want Mahanon to get any strange ideas while processing his grief.  “Try not to eat it all on the way back, fat ass.”

“Speak for yourself.”  Quipped Krem and he was out the door. 

Mahanon turned his back on the glittery skyline.  “Do you think there’s any wine?  I really need a drink.”

“Perhaps.  Worth a look.  Not too sure if we want something that’s been here for two years though.”

“Has it really been that long?”  Mahanon opened a door that revealed a bedroom, he moved on.

Bull found a small closet with coats and boxes.  “According to those papers, it seems so.  Plus, this place doesn’t look lived in.”

“But she was only with us a year.  That doesn’t make sense.  Dorian said he stayed here, how could it be two years?”

“Well Boss, considering how insanely fucked up this whole trip has been, I have to admit that I can’t even guess.”  Bull opened a door closer to the entrance.  “Found it!  Ah-ha!!  I had a feeling she wouldn’t disappoint.”

The bottle he found was one of many on the shelf, he brought it closer to the window to read the label and ensure he wasn’t about to open fish guts or something worse.  Mahanon continued to search the cupboards which resulted in three large cups.  The nimble elf used a shiv he had on him to open the bottle and both of the men welcomed the acidic smell of the spirit with pleased grins. 

“There’s more right?”  Even in the darkness, Bull could see happiness in the glint of his eyes.

“Plenty.”  Bull answered. 

They settled down on the angular couch that was as uncomfortable as it looked.  Krem returned by the time they were ready for a second glass.  He spread his haul out on the low table in the middle of the room.  Each item came in its own package.  Sandwiches, cookies, bites of cake, and five apples. 

“Savor it guys, that’s the last of the money.”  Krem picked out his share and tore into the bag with a cookie.

“Are you shitting me?”  Bull eyed the meal again, “$30 for just this?”

“Trust me, I tried to barter and the merchant looked at me like I was a spell casting dwarf.  So, lesson learned, if something has a sticker that says $1 it’s actually about $1.50 because they don’t tell you until you’re paying that there’s a fucking tax.”  Krem pointed to the apples, “I had to put some back.”

Bull picked up an apple.  Since it filled his palm, Bull deemed it freakishly big.  The largest he could recall seeing was slightly larger than an eyeball.  The skin was a perfectly even red lacking any blemishes.  Taking a bite, the inside was just as perfect.  Not a trace of rot or bugs and the damn seeds were even symmetrical. 

“They’re all like this?”  Bull queried.

“All the fruit is.  The shelves were lined with them.  All identical copies of each other, bright colors – the apples were the only ones that looked sorta normal.  The others just seemed too…perfect.  They didn’t look like you could or even should eat them.”  Krem gave a slight shudder before taking a large bite. 

Bull finished his apple, core and all, then went through the process of removing his armor.  Krem and Mahanon finished all their food before doing the same.  They remained seated, comfortable in their smalls and drinking at a steady pace to avoid the uncomfortable question that weighed on each of their minds

_What the fuck do we do now?_

Krem retrieved a forth bottle, this time scanning his surroundings.  “So, this is where she used to live.”  He took a few steps toward the wall of glass, but kept a wary distance.  “Unbelievable.”

“I know.  Dorian tried to explain it to me on multiple occasions.  Now I understand why it was so difficult.”  Mahanon stretched out on the couch, a wad of clothing propped up his head so he could keep up his drinking.  “Fuck.”

Tears began to stream down the man’s face.  Bull walked away to give him some space.  “Hey, Sonny.”

Krem moaned, “Oh fuck Chief, can’t we just stop for today?  Can’t we just sleep?  I seriously want to die in this chair right now.”

“Why don’t you crawl in the bed?  We’re not doing anything tonight.  This can wait until morning.”  Bull pointed to the door Mahanon opened earlier. 

When Krem walked past, he flicked Bull’s ear, “Fucker.”

“I’m not taking requests right now.”  Bull sniggered at his own joke.  “Hey, Sonny.  Where does Hunter live?”

_There are twelve Hunters in your contacts.  Do you mean Hunter Defoux?_

“No, Hunter Praxis.”  Bull corrected.

_I do not know anyone by that name.  Do you mean Hunter Pearson?_

“No.  Stop.”  Bull growled, “Hey Boss, do you know if Praxis’ brother went by another name?”

No answer.

“Boss?”

Cocking his eye from the phone, he saw Mahanon dead asleep.  A puddle of wine soaked into the carpet under his empty hand that hung over the edge.  Rubbing at his eye, Bull went in search of something to clean up the mess. Perhaps sleep was a good idea. 

While digging through the coat closet, he heard a buzz. 

The front door unlocked.

There was no time to react.  An explosion of blinding white light engulfed the apartment.  His vision was wrecked and he was set upon by what seemed like a dozen men, he couldn’t tell for sure.  All he knew was that he was easily tossed to the floor, bound, and gagged.  Blinking his eye furiously, he wondered if he were permanently blind.  Black splotches and silver specks were all he could see. 

Feet moved through the apartment, Krem and Mahanon most likely tied up as he was.  Voices spoke above him, not a one held a note of familiarity. 

“How are we going to get this thing out to the van?”

“Stairs.  We can’t risk the residents seeing any of them.”

“Got it.  Um, this guy isn’t human, and I’m sure about this one.”

“Let’s assume none of them are, so no sedatives.”  The owner of this voice came closer, probably taking a knee.  “Listen up.  We’re going to take you three out of here.  Don’t give us a hard time and we won’t give you one.  I am under no obligation to bring you in alive.  Got it?”

Still blind, Bull decided to play on the ‘not human’ label and remained quiet.  Let them assume he was a dumb beast.  It was the only advantage he could exploit at the moment.  With Krem and Mahanon deep in their cups, resisting wasn’t an option at this point in time. 

They hauled Bull to his feet and guided him through the building.  Down stairs, through doors, up stairs, to eventually land in another vehicle.  He was beginning to have a growing distaste for this preferred method of transportation. 

During the ride, his vision slowly improved.  At least there was one thing to be thankful for.  With nothing better to do, Bull ticked off the time.  After an hour, he was curious.  After three hours, he didn’t give a fuck where they were, just that they were finally getting out of the damn vehicle.  His eye still wasn’t able to make much sense of his blurry surroundings, he couldn’t begin to guess where he’d been taken to, much less how to get back.  The small thought of escape began to shrink.    

Wordlessly, he was directed where to go with tugs and pushes.  At one point in the building, the trio was separated.  Another complication for an escape plan.  When Bull’s vision cleared up, he counted his captors.  Six.  All armed.

They entered a room with bright lights that made his delicate eye sting.  Another group of people greeted them.  They wore white clothing from head to toe with purple gloves and green paper shoes.

“Um, I guess we’ll have to do a full assessment then.”  The woman’s voice was muffled behind a green scarf.  “Remove your clothing and up on the table please.”

Bull ignored her, kept his head forward, looking at nothing.

“Can he understand me?”

“Dunno, didn’t say a thing the whole trip.  Hasn’t caused any trouble either.”

The hesitation was thick, but Bull waited it out.

“Okay, um, see if he’ll let you take that off.”

Bull could hear the level of readiness click up a notch among his security detail when one of the soldiers did as he was asked.  It was the most difficult thing in the world to contain a smirk when someone in the room whistled appreciatively at his endowment. 

“Thank you.  Now, up on the table if you would.”

This time two soldiers physically instructed Bull to do as the woman asked.  Once he laid down, the white robed persons strapped him in place.  He flexed his muscles to test the bonds.  There was a possibility he could get out of them. 

The soldiers moved to the outskirts of the room and the group of healers took over.  Bull assumed they were healers, considering the equipment they were using was similar to those Tran used on Praxis. 

Pacing through breathing exercises, he let them poke, prod, flick, slap, and stab to their hearts’ content.  He made a point of not responding despite much of the procedure to be increasingly uncomfortable and even painful. 

Any time they messed around with his horns, he wanted to rip their throat out and smack them with the remnants.  They weren’t gentle nor respectful about it.  Halfway through it all, he was certain they saw him as an animal.  Their talk about him and what they were doing became less guarded.  They speculated as to the reason behind the color of his skin, what happened to his other eye, what his spine structure looked like to support his horned skull. 

His continued silence only encouraged them to treat him like a stray dog.  They coaxed him off the table to another room using gentle tones.  At least they weren’t total assholes.  The armed guard followed, clearly unswayed by his docile manner.  In another room, he was shot with a geyser of water, scrubbed down with soap, then rinsed again.  He had to admit he was impressed that they’d used warm water.  They were actually missing out on an opportunity to assert their power by using cold water.

Cold, shivering prisoners were more desperate for comforts, easier to bargain with. 

His final destination was a room with metal walls.  He watched the door swing open and noted the thickness of the steel.  Literally busting out wasn’t going to happen.  The only furniture was a table and two chairs.  Although he was left in a locked room, the hand restraints remained, only this time they were fastened in the front.  He paced the room, listening to his footsteps and determined the floor to be as solid as the walls. 

Viewing the table as an invitation, Bull chose to kneel in the corner instead.  An interrogation was imminent and he was interested to see how they would handle him.  Still naked, he waited. 

Time passed and he felt his bad knee complaining.  He could bear it. 

A while later, he began to contemplate pissing in a corner when the door opened again.  A man with black hair and fair skin wearing a pressed suit walked in.  He held a larger version of Praxis’ phone tucked in one hand. 

The soldiers began to follow him in, but he waved them off.  “I’ll be fine.”

Bull kept his expression neutral, his stare passive.

The man sat in one of the chairs, placing the book sized phone on the table.  “Care to join me?”

Silence.

“I doubt the floor is doing anything good for that bad knee of yours.”

He was probing for a response.  Bull denied him.

“Your blood sugar is low.  If we get through this interrogation quickly, you get some food that much sooner.”

Bull wanted to laugh, but kept up his stony façade. 

“Alright.  How about this.”  The man tapped on his device and suddenly Bull was listening to his own voice.

_“Try not to eat it all on the way back, fat ass.”_

Then Krem, _“Speak for yourself.”_

And even Mahanon, _“Do you think there’s any wine?  I really need a drink.”_

The man stopped the voices.  “I know you can talk.”

Bull rose and stubbornly hid the pain that shot through his knee.  The guy was a prick and Bull was done with this game.  When he reached the table, he pulled the chair out, but didn’t sit.  Instead he grabbed his cock and balls and flopped them on the cool metal table. 

The man stared, then looked up at him, more puzzled than disgusted.  “Are you trying to tell me something by doing that?”

“Are you trying to tell me something keeping my clothes?” ground out Bull.  He actually wasn’t too bothered at being naked, but he knew they were trying to make him feel nervous and didn’t appreciate it. 

“Well, we’re not giving your armor back.  As for regular clothes, it’s taking some time to find things in your size.”  He gestured with his hand at the empty chair.  “You’ll be more comfortable if you sit.”

Bull closed his eye and took a deep breath, listening.  Thinking.  This guy was accustomed to power, to control.  His tone and manners marked him as someone who did negotiations for a living.  Certainly, not one to get his hands, dirty.  No, that was for _other_ people.  A peculiar irritation in his enunciation indicated that the man didn’t really want to be here. 

Tilting his head to one side, Bull smiled.  In rapid succession, he snapped free of his handcuffs, snatched up the chair, twisted it into a spear than clubbed the table.  The piece of furniture buckled like tissue paper under his powerful swings.  The interrogator leapt across the room, pressing his back to the wall. He clutched his device with wide eyes. 

Needless to say, Bull’s actions created an ear shattering noise that flooded the room with soldiers.  Bull backed into a corner, makeshift weapon still in hand.

Looking out at the arc of muzzles, he sneered, “I know I won’t live through this.  The question for you assholes is how many of you will.”

“Back off!”  The interrogator shouted, his expression showing surprise at his own voice.  Clearing his throat, he resumed his business demeanor.  “It’s alright.  We merely had a disagreement.  Please, let me continue.”

If there was a captain among the group, he kept his mouth shut.  The guards followed orders and exited the room, backward.  That was good.  Bull wanted them scared. 

Now it was the interrogator’s turn to feel off balance.  He sat in the chair again, but had nowhere to put his device.  Eventually he opted to set it down and looked at Bull who remained in the corner. 

Folding his hands in his lap, he tried again.  “Alright.  Let’s approach this from a different angle.  What do you want?”

Bull’s resources had dwindled down to nothing.  His prospects were grim and the chance he’d make it out of this building alive were next to null.  Fuck it, he was going to bet on the golden nug. 

“I want Praxis.” 

The man’s eyes darkened.  He knew her and knew her well.  At first Bull was hopeful.

“Oh.  How interesting, because I have been looking for the monster that raped her.”  Picking up his tablet, he showed a diagram that meant nothing to Bull but everything to him.  “Funny, all our tests show that it was you.”


	14. Finding Some Answers

“What?”  Bull ground out, slow and bitter.  Anger boiled close to the surface, easily peeking its head through the sleep deprived surface of Bull’s self-control.

The man retained his accusatory tone.  “We have the evidence.  When Sunset returned, she was given a full medical evaluation.  The internal and external bruising suggested rough treatment.  Her refusal to discuss the origin of the injuries is typical victim behavior.  Now seeing your rather short temper, it is not difficult to see where you would have overpowered her and taken advantage of her disabled state.”

“ _Suggested.  Typical victim.  Disabled state_.”  Bull’s voice dropped deeper.  “Seeing me.”  Bull examined the man’s face further, gauging how his words reflected back on him would impact his cockiness.  “You make bold assumptions.  Did she say she was raped?”

“She didn’t have to.”

“But did she say it?”

The man rose, seething.  “You’re just trying to manipulate me, just as you manipulated her.  How dare you?” 

“ _You_ refuse to believe she consented to sex with me.”  Bull continued to pry, there was something else going on. 

His eyes flicked over Bull, disapproval was thick and soured his features.  There was personal offense, not general.  He had a duty to carry out the interrogation but he was mucking it up with his emotions.  Praxis was not doing well and this guy was on the hunt for someone to blame. 

Bull’s smirk ran deep.  Emotions he could work with.  “She begged for it.”

The man’s hand twitched and a muscle tightened in his jaw. 

Bull poked some more.  “On her knees.  She bargained her body just to have a taste of me.”

Skirting the line of absolute vulgarity was all Bull had to do.  Murder narrowed the interrogator’s eyes and balled his fists.  Bull had successfully stolen control. 

“Shut up.” 

Bull relaxed into his role, the manipulation second nature.  “Not really good at that.  Why don’t you get Praxis down here and I’ll show you some of her favorites.  She can put on a great show, she likes to have others watch.” 

“I swear to God you are never going to see her again and I will fucking kill you myself if you even think of touching her!” 

The man screamed – compensation for a physically impossible feat, although the spirit was more than willing.  Replaying the conversation over in his head, Bull scoured his every word for more hints.

Inspecting the man from head to toe, his evaluation shifted at his newfound revelation.  Sunset.  He’d called her by her given name which no one, not even Dorian or Doc, used that name.  His emotional attachment, the unnaturally dark color of his hair looked all the more unnatural, intentionally _not_ a bright red.  Shit.

Searching the room, Bull was unsure how private their conversation was.  He’d drafted a conclusion but it was only an assumption until he could get the man to confess. 

Taking a gamble, he assumed that they could be heard, but not seen.  “Sexual prowress is a status symbol where I come from.  There’s no reason to be ashamed.  You know, I knew this _Hunter_ [he pointed accusingly at the man] he always bragged about all the women he slept with, even their _sisters_ [he gestured at his leg, indicating it being cut off].  Slick bastard was so damn proud of himself that he managed all those liaisons _without the others knowing_ [Bull pointed at the door].  That is the kind of legendary status that men dream of, _am I right_?”

Stepping back, the man looked at the door then back at Bull.  The hesitation was all the answer Bull needed, yet he still managed to respond.  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.  At least his friends _knew to keep their mouth shut_ [he pointed to Bull] around the women he conquered.  Otherwise his life would have been ruined.”

No wonder he was so pissed, Bull had been goading Praxis’ brother.  Great.

Nodding that he understood, Bull sat down and discarded his makeshift weapon.  “All this talk about sex is making me hungry.  You want anything more out of me, I need some damn food, and none of that bread and water crap either.”

“Okay, alright.”  Hunter bobbed his head as he formulated a plan, “Hmm, if you can give me straight answers, then we can work out a deal.”

Bull feigned a painful grunt before answering, “ _Urgh_ , if you can get me some food then I’ll do whatever you want.  Just be quick about it.”

A stern nod then Hunter was gone.  Bull rubbed at his temple with a groan.  Her brother, her _fucking_ brother.  He was torn as to whether this was a good development or a bad one. 

_Friends knew to keep their mouth shut._

Hopefully cleverness ran in Praxis’ family and the guy was passing off the right signals.  Keep his mouth shut.  Can do, but Praxis was known for being pretty fucking stupid sometimes as well.  He hoped that trait didn’t run _as_ strongly in the family.

Bull banged his head on the wall and laughed.  Her brother.  In less than five minutes he figured it out and somehow this whole shit show of a military didn't.  A dye job and probably a name change, that's all it took to fool these pricks?

Hot damn this would be hilarious if he were in a tavern with a full belly and six cups deep in ale.  

Ha-ha-ha...Fuck this place. 

Another hour, then another.  Bull was dozing when the door creaked open again.  Knowing he'd be stiff, he stayed put.  The last person he expected to see, well one of the last, walked through the door, Tru Tran.  

He didn't wear a uniform and he looked tired.  His hair had grown longer which set him apart from the close-cropped look of the other soldiers. 

The instant he saw Bull, his face lit up.  "Holy fuck, Bull?  They got you too?  Shit, I thought only our team made it back.  Jesus Christ where are your clothes?  Are you alright?"

Hunter entered the room quietly with two soldiers in uniform and stayed by the door after he shut it.

Bull wondered if they were there for him, or for Tran.  "You know, you're the first to ask.  Have to say I feel like shit, honestly.  Still no food."  The last bit he shouted at Hunter, testing Tran's reaction.

"Don't be too hard on 'em.  He's the better of the suits walking around here."  His tone was dismissive and impersonal.  He didn't know about the family relation either.  

Tran eyed the warped chair in the corner, "Whoa.  How have they managed to keep you locked up for the past month?"

"Month?  It's only been two days since the battle."

"Naw man, for us a month.  How long have you been here?"  The disparity in the passage of time didn’t give Tran the slightest pause, his tone taking on a ‘weird shit happens’ attitude. 

"Two days.  I think.  Hard to tell when no one feeds you regular meals.”  Bull was hungry, but he’d gone longer without.  He worried that if they neglected him for this long, they were treating Krem and Mahanon the same way.  They wouldn’t hold up as well, especially with the isolation combined with the invasive examination.  Maybe Krem, but definitely Mahanon, would have gone through the same gauntlet. 

“Is this sufficient to grant me authorization to relocate the subject?”  Hunter spoke to the two soldiers.  The older one stared at Bull, his hesitation increased when he saw the mangled metal in the corner.

“C’mon, don’t be a dick.  Bull’s cool.”  Tran offered in support, using a word that Praxis used constantly in reference to anything and everything.  Bull had never thought that it actually carried any weight in meaning, likening it to the word ‘very’.

“Alright, but he keeps a military guard.”  The soldier spoke to Hunter from the corner of his mouth, all attention focused on Bull.  “Not your private guys.” 

Hunter nodded, a tug of a smile indicating that he would later challenge the military versus the private guard stipulation.  Bull was issued a new set of manacles and pants.  He really liked the pants.  They were an impossibly soft cotton, black and had ‘ARMY’ written in bright yellow letters down the side.  He was amused at the idea of him being branded property of the army. 

Weaving through the building, he paid attention to the route they took, marking the turns in his head in the event he needed to return to this area to find Krem and Mahanon.  They couldn’t be too far from where he was. 

Outside the building, the height of the sun surprised him.  He must have lost track of time when they were exploring his body in depth.  Bull had his own guard of six and was surprised to see that Tran had a guard of one.  A large vehicle waited to cart them off.  Bull memorized the route while fitting together the little pieces of Tran’s situation. 

They were dropped off at another building.  This one was cleaner, brighter, more open with high ceilings, and more colorful.  The only military personnel were few and far between.  The majority of the people walking the halls were dressed like Hunter or in long white coats.  The atmosphere here felt different, the expressions on the faces they met were inquisitive instead of accusatory and defensive. 

The new room they were brought to had a wall of windows and carpeted floor.  It housed a long table with black leather chairs to seat sixteen, a bottle of water at each seat.  Bull found it fascinating to discover that the chairs had wheels, which unfortunately, quit working once he settled his bulk down on one. 

As before, Hunter dismissed the guards to have some privacy for his ‘interrogation’. 

“First of all,” Hunter picked up a bottle of water and chucked it at Bull’s face.  “Don’t you ever talk about Sunset like that you filthy son-of-a-bitch!”  Three more bottles as he let loose his rage.

Bull let him hit, especially when he realized they were a soft material instead of glass.  He deserved it.

Taking a deep breath, Hunter composed himself then took up a seat opposite Bull and propped his elbows on the table, his hands cradled his chin.  “The food should be here shortly.  I’m afraid at this remote location, the selection is limited.  I want to know how you did it.  How in the Hell did you figure it out?”

Bull had questions of his own that he wanted answered.  Exhaling a few jitters that hid in his nerves, he came to terms with the fact he’d have to wait.  He’d made it this far, a few more minutes to entertain Hunter wouldn’t kill him. 

“I was able to peg you as her brother because I wasn’t lying earlier.  Praxis and I were intimate, in every sense.  Not only did she tell me about you, I know her better than anyone.  You share physical traits and nervous habits.  Look at the way you tap your fingers.  It’s a reminder, isn’t it?  So you don’t become distracted and forget something.”

“What the fuck are you two on about?  What did I miss?”  Tran remained standing, too confused to think of choosing where to sit. 

Still uncertain of his plans, Bull allowed Hunter to answer.  “For twelve years we’ve worked diligently to hide the fact that Sunset and I are siblings.  It avoids potential accusations of conflicts of interest and allows me closer oversight of the more dangerous things the military shoves her towards.”

Tran sputtered.  “What?  No, no!  She doesn’t…I went to the academy with her.  She’s an only child.  No one came to her graduation, no one ever wrote, for years there was nothing!  That’s impossible!  You can’t keep that kind of thing from the government.”

“Oh?  You mean like hiding the fact you were giving a drug addict medications illegally for seven years?  You mean secrets like that?”  clipped Hunter.

Tran’s mouth snapped shut. 

“After she disappeared I had her place torn apart.  I found the bottles that you put in her hands and before you get pissy with me, I didn’t say anything to the military.  They haven’t told me why you’re in custody.”

Bull remembered the first night back at Skyhold after she’d been tortured by the Qunari.

“ _I’m never going to change.  This will happen again and again and again.  There will be good days and bad.  This isn’t something that will go away.”_

_“I know.”_

That’s what he’d said, logic telling him that she was right.  However, a small part of Bull had hoped she was beyond relapse, but after the way she was willing to throw herself away for a draught of lyrium at the last battle…noble intentions, but stupid regardless. 

“She’s suicidal Hunter, what did you think she was going to do once she came back?”

Anger boiled in Hunter’s eyes, his face became flushed.  “I tried to take her to rehab.  I tried to get her to see a doctor or a shrink or just…someone!  She won’t listen to anyone.  If she does talk to someone, she manipulates them into doing what she wants.”  Hunter gestured to Tran, who took offense but remained silent.  “Look, Tran can back me up on this.  Sunset is in a bad way.  She can pull off a good show for the big wigs, but she’s going to crash and burn.  She’s not sleeping, she’s not eating.  Her smoking is getting out of hand, I’m at a loss.”

A speech.  Hunter had thought this through, an old agreement that he likely repeated over the years when Praxis hit her ‘bad days’. 

Hunter pointed to Bull.  “I need you to get her to listen to reason.  You’re big enough, you can force her if you had to.”

“No.” 

That was an answer Hunter was not accustomed to hearing.  His voiced deepened with severity.  “Let’s not forget one important detail.  I own you right now.  It is only by my good graces you’re not locked in a cell right now.  Anything you want, anything you need, I control.”

“Except Praxis.  Which is good, because you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing when it comes to her.” 

“And you do?  You think you’re so damn smart that you can get inside her head and tell me what you see?”

Tran coughed.  “Not that I’m welcome in this discussion but, when we found Praxis in his world, she looked good.  Healthy.  Her memory didn’t lag as much as it usually does, she was…more normal than I’d seen her in years.  Like, college normal.”  he shrugged, “but, what do I know?  I mean.  Fuck.  Didn’t even know she had a brother.  Don’t tell me the dead mother was a lie too.”

“No, she is very dead, thanks for the reminder.”  Hunter let this information simmer.  Bull only had to be patient.  With Tran’s support, and Bull’s refusal to cooperate on Hunter’s terms, the man was running out of options.  “How do I know you’re not some puppet master that’s going to screw her up more than she is?”

“Because I’m not, and for starters, she isn’t screwed up at all.  You see her as a person that had a few bad turns in life and that all of that is behind her.  Think again.  She relives that shit every day – the deaths – the gore – the guilt – all of it.  You are the one trying to be the puppet master, forcing her to be normal, to be like you.  That’ll never happen.  Not unless you fall into the trenches of war and have your life suck shit-stained ass to the point that you can’t find a way out.  You end up drowning in the blood of your fallen brethren and choking of the lies you were led to believe.  Broken body, crippled spirit.  You know nothing of what suffering really means.”  It was probably not the best tactic to call out her brother for being a shit, but he needed to hear it.  His comfortable life was too far removed from what Praxis had lived to be of any use to her.    

Bull watched Hunter’s hands clench to fists, pulsing as he sat on the edge of punching him in the face.  With a bit of wry humor, Bull wondered if it’d even hurt, considering how weakly the bottled water struck him earlier.  Clearly the man’s muscled frame was purely for looks. 

Weighing his options for a moment longer, Hunter eventually stood and left the room.

Tran took his chair.  “You think he’s going to get her?  I haven’t seen her since my arrest.”  He flexed his fingers in the air at ‘arrest’.  “Rothstein didn’t make it back with us.  Did he come with you?”

“No.”  Bull spelled out what happened after the explosion.  Rothstein’s body, the death of the mages and the assignment from the crazy witch. 

Tran took it in good stride, his mind open.  “So, this witch-fairy thing sent you guys here but didn’t tell you what to do?”

“She said this was ‘an opportunity to prevent all this from happening’ but she was clear that we can’t go back in time to actually prevent things from happening.  We can’t go back to a time where we already exist.”  Bull presented the paradox Mythal had left with. 

“Okay, so _you_ can’t go back to a point in time where you already are.”  Tran tapped at his lip.  “What if you were supposed to get someone who was never there to begin with?”

Bull slammed his head on the table, rocking the legs from the force.  It made so much sense his head hurt before it hit.  He groaned at how obvious it had been.  Alright, at least now the path was clear, he assumed Praxis would be willing to go back to a point in time before she arrived and do _something_ to fix all this shit.  Chuckling, Bull wondered if she could go back before the attack on Haven.  They could save a lot of live and prevent the event that caused her to follow Cullen and Dorian back.  A complete reset, as Mythal put it.  A new timeline. 

“Ready?”  Hunter cracked the door just enough to ask.

Bull and Tran joined him in the hall.  Hunter talked as they journeyed to yet, another destination. 

“Major Praxis is in the BDOC, Battle Defense Operation Center.  The main reason they are holding off on a Courts Martial is the fact that they still have to get information out of her.  The way she ran the entire logistics for Nellis and the Range created a shit storm when she suddenly disappeared.  It’s been two years and they’re still playing catch up, even with her help.”

There it was again, the disparity in the passage of time.  Two years instead of the ten months in Thedas. 

“So, she’s working today?”  Hunter nodded at Tran’s question, then the medic tapped Bull’s arm.  “Hey man, just so you know, when in uniform public displays of affection are discouraged, even among family.  Figured I’d give you a heads up, so you’re not surprised if she keeps her distance.”

Bull nodded.  It wasn’t as if he needed such validation.  As he said earlier, he knew her intimately.  Her eyes always lingered on his pecks.  She enjoyed kissing his hips and she loved to thumb his lower lip.  That sexy way she blew kisses at him.  The most important though, was that she trusted him.  Although she was damn good at hiding most of her motivations and feelings, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that she trusted him fully.  Had he still been with the Ben Hassrath, he’d have called her a fool. 

Had he still been Hissrad, would she have ever unmasked him?  Or would she have fallen for the lie until the Qun demanded her disposal at end of her usefulness? 

The thoughts left his head as they were lead through a door to a short hallway with another door.  The space wasn’t large enough for their entire group, so only four soldiers accompanied them.  Hunter tapped on the wall to the right, pressing a card against a mirror. 

A buzz sounded and the door before them opened. 

“Oh, look.  Another room.”  Complained Bull.  As annoying as it was, the compartmentalizing and decentralization of key functions made sense.  If one of them were compromised, it wouldn’t be a complete loss to the command structure.  Bull thought on the number of teams and the precise level of timing it would take to execute a takeover of the complex. 

Meanwhile, he walked where told, stood and waved his arms like a damn circus monkey.  Another task complete, they were lead to an unmarked door.  Along the way they passed large displays, on one of them, Bull recognized his shadow.  Fascinated, he stopped in his tracks to stare.  He could see every glorious inch of himself beneath the clothing.   

Tran patted him on the shoulder, “Neat huh?  It’s a scan of your entire body.  It’s a quick way to check if you are hiding any weapons.”

Thinking back on the thorough search they suffered through in the desert, Bull smirked.  “You sure I’m not hiding anything my ass?”

He chuckled at his joke, but the woman sitting at his display clicked a button and the screen changed to show Bull’s insides.  

“No, you’re not.”  She answered deadpan. 

Bull jerked his head from the screen.  Seeing his intestines, skeleton, and fucking heart pumping made him queasy.  It was an easy thing to stomach when it’s someone else, but when it’s yourself – Bull shivered.  It became a nasty reminder of what fragile animals they all were.

After all the confined spaces to arrive at their destination, the large room felt especially large.  Everyone working inside wore crisp, pressed uniforms.  The bright color of their uniform wasn’t functional like the other soldiers they’d met.  Bull’s guard wore colors to blend into the environment and practical pockets.  The ranks were different as well, polished brass and silver.  These people were the planners, the schemers. 

The room was tiered, like a Tevinter colosseum.  Each tier held a row of ten desks, each person with their own a display, all of them showing different information.  The desks were oriented to face forward to the giant screens on the wall opposite them.  Walking down the steps through the center of the room, Bull noticed the closer they came to the ground floor, the more intense the soldiers were.  The main hub of command was located at the center, which naturally made sense.  

The command area had a line of desks that faced the rest of the room.  Few of the older men and women actually occupied their particular chair.  Most of them wondered throughout the room, the majority huddled around Praxis. 

Bull felt like a fool as his heart jumped at the sight of her, alive if a little worse for wear.  He didn’t mind so much.  Her hair was pulled back into a plain bun.  She wore long pants and brightly polished black shoes.  Their eyes met, but she only paused for a moment, not breaking from the conversation she was holding. 

Tran’s warning held true as she finished her duties before giving him the time of day.  When they reached the ground floor, the four-man guard positioned themselves between Bull and those in command.  Bull wondered just how disposable all the people behind him were compared to those in front of him. 

“General Kilgore, I have come to see if we may borrow Major Praxis for a time?”  Hunter addressed a lean bald man who wore two stars on his shoulders. 

"Mr. Weston.  I was informed you were making progress with some of our guests.  Is there a pressing reason as to why your felt compelled to bring one here?"

"It was quicker than sending word.  We are still pressed for time are we not?" 

General Kilgore cast an appraising eye over Bull.  Although easily a head taller, the General was not intimidated by Bull's physique.  He gave a dismissive air, but the tension in his jaw betrayed that he wasn't going to underestimate him.  

Bull liked this guy.

Choosing some of Tran’s vernacular, Bull tossed a thumb toward Hunter.  "I told this suit I wouldn't talk without seeing Praxis."  

The second he spoke, Praxis froze and stared at him intently.  Her hands shook and her lip quivered as she croaked, "You're real?  All of you can see him too?"

She seemed afraid and Bull wanted to slap it right out of her.  She should never feel afraid when she was with him. 

"If you mean the minotaur then-". The General didn't finish.  

The moment Bull’s presence was acknowledged, Praxis leapt into his arms.  She grabbed him by the back of the head and forced herself on him, her mouth devouring him with a searing kiss.  A deep breath and she inhaled his scent, squeezing him hard as she wrapped her arms over his shoulders.  He held her up and was shocked at how light she was.  After returning the first kiss, Bull felt the room react, a collective gasp steeped in awkwardness.  As Tran had said, she shouldn’t be doing this. 

He pulled away from the kiss, but refused to let her go, she needed this.  "Kadan."

"Inamorato."  

The General cleared his throat loudly.  Praxis pressed her forehead to Bull's then eased her grip on his neck.  "Down please."

The gathered commanders fumed quietly at her impropriety.  The General narrowed his eyes at her.  “Now that’s out of the way, if we may continue?  There still isn’t clarification on the Yankee case or the Ronin mission.”

“Yes, of course.”  Praxis nodded thoughtfully, then looked up at Bull.  Her eyes were wide and pleading, is if he were a lifeline reaching out to save her from drowning.  “Then I get to spend time with The Bull?”

Kilgore pinched his face in disgust at Bull’s proper name.  “Yes.  When we’re done here, we’ll arrange it.”

“No.  When you are done with those two tasks.”  Bull interjected.  “Those two tasks and no more.”

Praxis hid a smile behind her hand and Kilgore gave an amused huff, admitting he’d been caught with verbal trickery.  “Protecting our Major are you?”

“She doesn’t need me, you do.  What do you think she would do if you prolonged our separation?”  Bull watched the commanders consider the possibility, their unease evident. 

They didn’t have everything they wanted from Praxis and if they could have bullied it out of her, they would have.  Their only option was to accommodate and despite them having Bull as leverage, it was evident that she was still a spitfire.  There was no way she was going to put up with their shit. 

“Mr. Weston if you please?”  Kilgore waved a dismissal.  “We will be in contact.”


	15. The Black City

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?”  Praxis took another drag from her swisher sweet.  The thin cigar was cheap, but didn’t leave as heavy a taste of bitterness as the larger ones. 

“Stalling.  You want to tell me what the deal is between you and this Bull guy?”  Hunter’s tone was defensive and honestly a little accusatory. 

Praxis wasn’t surprised to hear the note of disapproval.  There was so much about her that he disapproved of.  He’s never say it outright, but she knew. 

“The Bull and I, we just go.  I don’t know.  We’re happy together and we just…are.”  The inner courtyard was surrounded by the company’s main building, one of the few places they felt safe talking openly.   

It was Hunter’s company.  On the outside, it was a major research and development contract for the military.  Out here in the middle of nowhere, they were basically mad scientists.  They were given free range to experiment and concoct anything their imagination came up with.  Their mother had started the company.  She was originally an engineer with NASA but when the organization could no longer fund her research, she knew there were other areas of the government that would.  When she passed away, Hunter had to fight for control of the company against the board and their father, Kenneth Praxis.  The lawyers nearly bankrupted them, pushing Praxis to join the military for the low interest loans and paid education.  In the end, they’d won. 

The company continued to do well under him, which kept the board quiet.  Kenneth became too occupied by his drug habit to hold down a job to afford any appeals.  Things were going well for Hunter in his perfect little world. 

Praxis wondered if she were jealous.

Looking him over, she considered the idea.  He had slick hair, flawless skin, matching eyes, and a wallet that held family pictures.  No, she couldn’t be jealous, he viewed the world from an entirely different lens from her.  For him, things could only be one way.  Only one answer. 

She was either in love with The Bull or not.  Ready to marry or not.  She didn’t know how to explain what they were.  The way she wanted him, the way she cared for him, none of it fit neatly into Hunter’s world because both of them knew beyond a doubt that people change.  Each day could bring something new and then, well, then they weren’t ‘them’ any longer.  It wasn’t a bad thing, just the way of life.  No pleasure cruise lasts forever.

“Are you afraid of him?”

Hunter’s question snapped Praxis back to the present.  “The Bull?”

“God, why do you have to say it like that?  Yes, him.  _That._   Jesus, is this some fetish to you?”

“Wow.  That escalated quickly.”  Praxis took a long drag, finishing off her cigarillo. “No, it’s not anything that you think it is.  It’s everything that I want.”

Hunter turned to look out over the courtyard, not really seeing anything, simply avoiding her gaze.  “I’ve managed to get the two others that were in your apartment, a human and an elf.  They’re getting some rest in Galactica for now.”  He toed the tightly backed gravel path, kicking up a few loose pebbles.  “How much longer are you going to keep leading them on?”

Them, the military.  “For as long as it takes to make sure my friends are safe.  This changes things.  See?  Dragging my feet paid off.” 

“Or maybe it’s going to blow up in your face.  With these guys here, they’re wanting to push forward with the inquiry.  I’m assuming they’ll want statements.”

Praxis stood to arch her back to the sound of a satisfying ‘ _crack-crack_ ’.  “Yay.” 

The inquiry.  That was a joke.  As extraordinary as her situation had been, the powers that be were a little pissed about Rothstein’s disappearance and the lack of usable lyrium samples when the team abruptly returned.  They were especially pissed about Praxis working for the Inquisition.  Technically according to the UCMJ, it was a blatant violation along with sucking her old unit into conflict. 

Hopefully with The Bull as submitted evidence, she could easily get the team off with claims of intimidation.  She elbowed Hunter, “You ready to hire some new security?”

He nodded, “Of course.”

“We may have to do some extra work to help out Tran.”

“I’ll help him out legally, for you, but I’m not hiring him.  God damn, what is the matter with you?  You know better.”  Hunter referenced her hidden prescription drug use prior to leaving for Thedas.    

“Of course I do.  Did you know there is better stuff out there than what Tran was giving me?  I was working my way down, thank God, because I hit a big ass dry spell in Thedas.”  She stopped and cradled her temples.  “Jesus fuck, do we really have to do this again?”

“You should have been under medical supervision.”

“Tran _is_ medical supervision.”

“You just don’t want to let someone else be in control, do you?  You can’t stand the idea that someone else might know what’s best for you?  You even admit you make bad decisions!” 

Praxis resumed her march for Galactia, eager to get into the makeshift hotel.  “Handing over control means implicit trust.  I don’t trust doctors, military or civilian.  I don’t trust those rehab centers that would have sucked every penny out of me.  I only trust Tran enough that he won’t kill me or make it worse.”

“This is about trust?  I’m your brother for fuck’s sake, I have done everything that I could think of to help you.  You can’t trust me?”  He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.  “Goddamn you sound like Bull.”

Praxis wanted to fall over laughing, “Exactly.” 

“Please tell me you’re not serious about him.  I really don’t like him.”

“I’m not going to stop you. You're allowed to not like the guy.”  She shrugged.

“What’s so wrong with those other two guys?  Or absolutely _anyone_ else for that matter?”

They had reached the hotel. Praxis practically skipped throught the doors. Inside Galactica, Praxis felt at ease.  Set up similar to a hotel, the reception area was a public space with a bar/eating area.  Another corner had pool tables, darts, and even a corner with couches in neat rows facing a TV hooked up to a VCR.  Two sets of bookshelves housed every board game in existence, the more popular ones had duplicates.  The people milling about were either engineers she’d known growing up or previous teammates she passed on to Hunter when they were discharged for one reason or other. 

The affectionate name given to the lodging complex was due to the fact that modern technology was forbidden.  No Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, communication devices, or recording devices were permitted.  Everyone’s personal things were locked up at the office to keep the area ‘clean’, even fitbits were forbidden.  In order to reach the facility, most took a flight from Las Vegas, but due to all the security procedures, many found it easier to simply stay at Galactica during the work week, then only fly home on off days.  Since the facility was so secure, Galactica didn’t have a staff.  Any workers who chose to live there during the week picked up odd jobs.  Considering there was no internet, no computers, and all calls were monitored, no one minded.  Galactica was a home away from home, and these measures allowed for greater privacy than in the working areas.  The only exception were the landline telephones in the bedrooms, those were always monitored, but it was no secret.  Praxis had lived in Galactica since her return from Thedas.

“Is he in my room or should I ask the desk?”  There actually wasn’t a desk.  All the main duties were passed on to whoever worked the bar. 

Hunter grumbled before leading the way.  “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

“I really don’t care.”

“You should!  You didn’t see what he did in the interrogation room.  He snapped out of his handcuffs and turned a metal chair into a baseball bat.”    He paused when his voice began to raise.  With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Do you really expect me to simply ignore all the bruises and marks the medics found when you in-processed?” 

“I dunno, I kinda expected you to stay out of my medical records.”  She shrugged.

Hunter grabbed her by the shoulders, “This isn’t a game!  Why can’t you take this seriously?  That thing in there is dangerous and he’s no good for you.”

“Jesus-fuck, what?  Did he shit in your coffee?  You don’t even know him- “

“Ah-ha!”  He drew in close, pointing his finger at her.  “See there?  That.  That right there sounds like a damn Jerry Springer defense.”

“My God that thing’s still on air?  And _you’re_ actually using it to support your stance.  Classy.”

“Can you at least try to see things from my perspective?  You came back beaten all to Hell, bruised all over, and to top it all off, you’re missing another leg.  How else would you expect me to react?”

“By asking who gave me a hand when I hit my lowest.”  Tired of the argument, she pointed to a random door.  “Is it this one?”

“No.  I’m not-“

“The Bull!  Where are you?”  Praxis shouted down the hall. 

Further down, a door sprang open and The Bull poked his head out.  Eagerly, Praxis jogged the gap between them and jumped into his arms. 

“Hot damn spitfire!  I can’t get over your new feet.  Your hips look great with your new walk.  Mmm, like a sexy horse.”  He set her down then watched her appreciatively enter his room.

For the most part, it was a slightly larger hotel room.  They passed by the door to the bathroom then the narrow entry opened to the main area.  It was a small living space with a couch, table for two and a desk next to an old tube TV, purposefully avoiding microchips and wi-fi.  Just beyond was the bedroom area that had a queen bed and a low dresser.

“That’s not the best compliment.”

“Well, it’s better than before.  With the metal blades you walked more like a cat missing it’s knees.  I’ll take sexy horse any day.”

“Thank you, I love them too.  I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that they didn’t come from another person, they’re bionic.”  She plopped down on the couch to pull up her pants.  “They have built-in predictive software that enables me to jump, run, even dance if I wanted to.  Look pretty slick huh?” 

The Bull walked by the table to grab a plate of food that he’d saved.  Sitting next to her, he set it down in her lap then reached for her leg, hefting it delicately.  “It’s so light.” 

“Shit, anything is compared to what Orzammar was able to craft.  Not that I’m ungrateful, but this is so much better.  You won’t believe how easy it is for me to go up and down stairs.  I love my new feet!” 

“You’re welcome.”  Hunter stated, as though to remind them he was still there.

“Yes, Hunter, you are a darling.”  She nudged The Bull as she picked at the food on the plate.  “So, has my brother been a complete ass or has he tried to be civil?”

“He hasn’t thrown any punches, so I’d say more than civil.  You wanna take that jacket off?  It looks too stiff.” 

“Sure, sure.”  The Bull held her plate as she wormed out of the service dress coat.  “So, what happened?  How the fuck did you get here?”

“It’s not just me.  The Boss, Krem, Alistair, Cullen and Hawke too.”

“Where are they?”  She looked at her brother.

“Krem and Mahanon have their own rooms on this hall, I have guys looking for the other three in the city.  Hopefully we find them before Big Brother does.”  Hunter stiffly took a seat at the table. 

“At least they have Cullen with them, he’s been here before.  Shit.  But how again?”

The Bull reached over to the table to pick up and offer Praxis a drink.  “You know that lyrium you got from Vivienne?  Turns out that shit was just…wrong.  Rothstein took it, turned into a demonic lump of melted blue goo.  Not pretty.  While the explosion sent your team back here, in Thedas it killed the mages.”

Choking on her drink, she coughed. “What?!”

“We’re not sure if it was all of them, but all the ones that were in the Inquisition camp, all the Venatori in the fort.  Each one of ‘em, just fell over, dead.”

Praxis felt a hammer slam against her chest.  She couldn’t breathe.  It was soul shattering.  “I-“

The Bull wound his arm over her, pulling her against his chest.  “It wasn’t you, it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Vivienne.  No one knew what would happen.  Blaming yourself isn’t going to fix a damn thing.  Life just kicks you in the balls sometimes.”

She held him back, holding tight with thanks that he was still alive.  The Army issued sweats he wore were soft and absorbed her tears readily.  All the mages she knew, Dalish, Dorian- fuck.  Mahanon had to be crushed.  The Bull rubbed comforting circles over her back as she wept.  She was especially thankful she’d had some food since her stomach churned and twisted with guilt.  Taking her time, she mourned and prayed silently.  Although she’d dealt with death regularly, it didn’t mean that her practiced composure meant she was any less affected.  Each time it hurt, and hurt deep. 

When she pulled away, sniffling and wiping at her eyes, she thanked The Bull, who once again, offered her food. 

“After the explosion, there wasn’t much time.  Cullen brought us news of the mages’ and when we reconvened at the command tent, some sort of witch, or whatever, showed up.  She was as cryptic as a drunk dwarf topside and sent us here using that amulet the Boss got from the Venatori.  Said there was a way to fix what happened, but I’m not sure how.”

Praxis rubbed at her face, her features sore from crying.  “Okay, okay.  Then we need to figure out the next step.”

Hunter interjected, “The next step?  I’ll tell you what the next step is: They’re going back where they came from.  I’ve already gotten in touch with Chris, he should be on his way out here today or tomorrow.”

“Chris?  How the Hell did you get him the paperwork to come out here?”  said Praxis.

“After you disappeared, my firm was hired to investigate the site.  Weird shit was popping up in the soil and air samples.  Long story short, I had Chris start to brainstorm with me on ideas.  Since he has a computer science background, I was able to pull him onto the team when his theories turned out to be great leads.  All in all, we were able to fabricate what we call The Eluvian.  That’s how we got the team to find you.”

“Eluvian?  You built an Eluvian?”  The Bull perked up, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“We made up the name, created the mechanics from scratch, no one else is working anything remotely similar to this.  How could you know what that is?”  Hunter was skeptical of The Bull’s familiarity, yet Praxis recalled that she’d heard the name before. 

“I know about the Eluvian the Boss brought back from Orlais.  It came as a bundle with that advisor woman and creepy kid.  It’s real ancient magic and they’re extremely rare.  I know the Viddasala would cut off her left tit to get her hands on one.  Damn.  It all makes more sense now.  The legends were the ancient elves used them to travel from place to place in moments instead of days.”  The Bull ground his teeth with a small groan.  “As far as I know, the Ben Hassrath never got their hands on one.  Power like that would be a serious advantage.  If they ever suspected the ability to travel _outside_ of Thedas….damn.  Don’t know.  The priests would have their panties in a wad over that.”

Praxis cocked her head in thought, “But, I thought the Qunari didn’t like magic.”

“They don’t like uncontrolled magic.  If there was a way to reliably, safely use something like that, they’re not going to waste that kind of advantage.”

“Hunter!  Sunset!  You in there?” a voice called from the other side of the door.

Praxis felt The Bull tense next to her, but she patted his thigh.  “Don’t worry, it’s just Chris.  Got here early?” she directed at her brother.

Hunter sounded surprised as well.  “Yeah, I didn’t think he would have made the last flight out.”

Almost at the same time they heard the click of the door opening, Chris rushed into the room.  The two bags he held fell to the floor and his jaw dropped while he stared at The Bull. 

“Easy Chris, I can explain-“  Praxis began but Chris butted in.

“No.  I know who he is.  Tell me, is Krem alive?”

Simultaneously, The Bull and Hunter exclaimed, “How do you know his name?”

Chris waved off Hunter to be quiet, then pointed at The Bull.  He was out of breath and his nerves permeated his words, shaking them in a way Praxis had never heard before.  “I have to know – Did you sacrifice the Chargers to the Venatori to protect the Qunari?”

The Bull leapt up from his seat, energy pulsing in his muscles.  Praxis joined his side, holding onto his arm.  “Easy, babe, he can’t read minds.”  Unsure how much The Bull trusted her at this point, she placed herself between the two men.  “How do you even know about that?”

Chris was skirting the line of being manic.  “Are they alive or are they not?”

“Yes.  Krem’s down the hall if you don’t believe me.”  Snapped The Bull.

Chris blew out a massive sigh of relief, “Oh, thank God you’re Tal-Vashoth.”

Praxis kept her guarded stance since Chris’ words did nothing to put The Bull at ease.  “Goddamn Chris, how do you know this stuff?  I haven’t even had the chance to explain any of that to Hunter yet.” 

Chris looked over at his equally astonished husband.  “Sorry, I had to see him to be sure.  You may want to sit down for this.”


	16. Kindling

Chris paced nervously, searching for the right words and fidgeting with his hands.    

“Chris, you’re freaking me out.  What is going on?”  Praxis stayed close to Bull, her hand squeezed his.  Partly for his support, partly for hers.

Bull wanted to rip this thorn out of his heel quickly.  “Look.  I’ve been through some extremely fucked up shit in the past few days.  I seriously doubt you can top the crap I’ve had to deal with up to now.  Just spit it out.”

Leveling his eyes at Praxis, Chris said, “Tron.”

Praxis held her breath, squeezing Bull’s hand to the point he thought a finger would pop off.  “What’s Tron?”  He asked.

Both of them ignored his question as Praxis asked her own.  “So…what?  Are you Flynn?”

When Chris nodded, Hunter lost all composure.  “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Praxis stilled next to him, a grim pallor taking over her features.  “Oh, fuck.”

One word had managed to distress the ever-composed siblings.  Bull stroked his chin.  “Is this something that I even want to know?”

Chris pulled a chair out from the table to remain facing him.  “Of any person in the whole of Thedas, you might be the only one able to handle what I’m about to tell you.”  Grabbing one of his bags, he dug through it to pull out a large book.  “I’m part of a team that created the Dragon Age universe.  It’s our job, our mission, to create new worlds.  That’s how we were able to build the Eluvian to come after Sunset, it’s because I helped to create your world and the physics of how magic behaves in that world.”

Bull held up a hand for silence to process the insanity Chris just offered.  “So you’re a Maker and in your infinite wisdom you intentionally created demons?”

“And slavery and suffering and heartbreak and war.  Red lyrium?  What the fuck were you thinking when you created that?  You fucking prick!”  Shot Krem.

Everyone turned to find him standing in the entryway.  In Chris’ rush into the room, he hadn’t shut the door. 

“Placid worlds are too unstable.”  Defended Chris. 

“Bullshit!  Corypheus is stable?  Blood mages?  Dragons?  Are you fucking crazy?”  Krem’s body shook with anger, then he pointed at Praxis.  “And you knew?  You fucking knew and you played us.  You used us like pets.  Was it fun for you?  Did you get a good laugh?  How easy was it to walk away, discarding us like we were nothing?  Fuck you!  And fuck you and fuck this place.”

 _Not good._   “Krem!”  Bull charged after him into the hallway.  “Cremisius.  Stop!”

“Back off!  You have no idea…fucking Qun bastard.  You’re too busy thinking about getting your dick wet to think clearly.”

Bull grabbed him by the shoulders.  “Krem.  She didn’t know.  I don’t know how much you heard, but she just found out.  Hey!  Are you listening to me?”

 

“He’s saying he’s the Maker?  That?  Him?  What the fuck kind of Maker does this to people?  How sadistically cruel do you have to be to do this to people?  Chief, Dalish.  Thomas.  Wildervale.  Everything…” 

Krem’s shouting drew a few heads out into the hallway and Bull was eager to deescalate the situation.  “Hey, c’mon.  Let’s get back inside and work this out.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad.  Shit, I’m pissed, but let’s face this together.  Alright?” 

“Mahanon’s dead.” 

The statement landed like an anchor.  It hurt, but a part of Bull had known it to be inevitable.  He’d been on a downward spiral since Dorian’s death.  “You sure?”

“You think I don’t know a dead man when I see one?  Yes!  I went to check on him and found him hanging from the ceiling.”  As Krem spoke, Bull watched as his energy, his will to live began to fade.  His eyes were unfocused and his muscles weak, he was a dying man ready to accept his fate without a fight.  “I cut him down.  The Herald is dead.”

Tightening his grip on Krem’s shoulders, Bull hunched over to bring them eye to eyes.  “Listen.  We don’t need him.”  Krem winced at the callousness.  “We have freakish beings with godly powers and we’re going to fix this.  They made our world, they can fucking fix what _they_ ruined.  You got that?”

A stretch of silence then a dazed Krem finally nodded.  He’d reached a point that if Bull suggested they leap off a cliff together, he’d do it just to have some direction to fill the void. 

“…can’t get that authorization tonight, it’s impossible.”  Hunter’s voice drifted into the hall, drawing the men back in. 

Praxis paced the living area, agitated to the point her hands were shaking.  “No, you don’t talk like that.  Don’t tell me why you _can’t,_ tell me how you _can!_ ”

It was Chris who placed himself between the siblings in a well-practiced stance.  Hunter rose his voice to talk over Chris’ head.  “This is your problem.  This right here!  There are limits, there are restrictions.  When will you learn that you can’t do whatever you want?  That you have to follow the rules?!  Goddammit, can’t you listen to me for once in your life?!”

Yup, definitely a deeply seeded sibling divide was brewing here and wasn’t going to get better the more those two hacked at it.  Bull stepped forward and scooped Praxis up into his arms.  She clung to him, her heart racing, tears streaming down her face as she pressed against his chest. 

Bull held her tight.  “You heard, huh?” 

“Heard what?” asked Chris.

“Mahanon took his life.”

Chris and Hunter were shocked, both rushed out the door to Mahanon’s room.  Praxis untangled herself from Bull, wiping at her eyes to regain her composure.  “C’mon.  I need to say good bye.”

Following the voices, they entered Mahanon’s room a few doors down.  Chris and Hunter debated back and forth as to what needed to be done next and how soon they could act. 

Praxis ignored them entirely.  She walked steadily to the bed where Krem had placed him.  Taking his hand in hers, she kissed it whispering, “Dorian will be so cross with you.”

When she bent over to hold him, both Chris and Hunter stepped back repulsed which angered Krem, “You never paid respects to the dead before?”

Gauging by their abashed expressions, this was the first dead body they’d ever seen and Praxis’ comfort around him had them squirming.

“This is why you and she can’t see eye to eye.”  Bull leveled at Hunter.  “This is her life, _our_ life.  Mending our wounds, counting our sins, stewing in our regrets, and honoring those who deserved better.  Knowing that one day, we’re next.  How does that compare to one of your ‘bad days’?”

“He needs to be cremated.  Those lab boys can’t have him.”  Praxis kept her attention on Mahanon, combing his hair with her fingers and starting an intricate braid. 

Hunter turned to her, still in a bit of a daze after listening to Bull and watched her for a moment.  He choked on a word before clearing his throat to leave the room.  “I’ll see…I’ll get it done.”

Praxis finished putting Mahanon’s hair up the way he chose to meet with dignitaries.  The way Dorian preferred.   A kiss to his forehead and Praxis whispered honorary prose.  “Do not go gentle into that good night.  Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Bull approached the bed and placed a hand on Mahanon’s chest.  “Boss.  Ataash varin kata.  Asit tal-eb.” 

“For every bloody battlefield, we’ll gladly raise a cup.  No matter what tomorrow holds.”  Added Krem.  

They left the room and let the door lock behind them.  The night was growing late and there were fewer people walking the hall.  Back in Bull’s room, Chris stood awkwardly in the living area, nerves had him fidgeting.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”  Bull observed the hesitation, the stutter.  Chris wanted to be comforting, wanted to change the subject, but he didn’t know how to do so respectfully.

Bull let him stew.

Krem eyed Chris’ book on the table.  Opening it, Bull looked over his shoulder and both of them became fascinated at the detail within.  All of the Inquisition quests were outlined extensively.  Haven, Skyhold, the Winter Palace.  It was all there. 

“Chief.”  Krem stopped his rapid page turning to land on the Inquisitor’s companions - Varric, Cassandra, Solas, Vivienne…The Iron Bull.

“I had not thought that my life could fit on a single page…”  Bull scanned it, reading through the hasty summary of events.  ‘Romance’ he read in great detail, multiple times.  He pointed to the passage discussing the dragon tooth necklace.  “This is just a fable.  No one really does this.  Dragons are rare and to pull out a…oh, wait, yeah, actually that is badass.” 

He reached up and played with Praxis’ dogtag that he’d worn for months.  “But this isn’t set in stone.  Things can be different.”

“Yes!  Yes, exactly.”  Chris answered, eager to talk on any subject other than who they left in the other room.  “Everything is stored on the servers.  Think of it as a library of choices and each choice generates a book of outcomes.”

“So that’s why you were so concerned about Krem surviving the Storm Coast.”  Pried Bull.  He had to know why that was so damned important. 

“Astute, yes.  The Chargers are your link to the life beyond the Qun.  That day on the coast was a crisis point for you.  You had to finally choose which life you were going to live instead of riding things out on the fence.  You had to decide if you were going to live as a Tal-Vashoth, or as a Qunari.”

Krem shook his head.  “You saying that his whole life depended on a single moment?”

“Yeah, Krem.  It does.”  Bull continued to play with the dogtag.  “Kadan, would you have ever hooked up with me if you were still dating Krem?”

Chris nearly fell out of his chair, his initial shock coming from Bull’s use of ‘kadan’ but the news that Praxis once dated Krem set his eyes as wide as saucers.  “Whoa, you…and him…and him?!”

Praxis glared at him in admonishment.  “Thanks for the vote of confidence that I could actually have a boyfriend.  To answer your question,” she turned back to Bull.  “No, I don’t think so.  I was happy with Krem.  Not that I’m saying you’re a last resort, it’s just the order in which things happened.  Besides, that’s a big ‘what if’.  Chris, you made such a fuss earlier.  What would have happened if the Chargers hadn’t survived that battle?”

His eyes darted between Krem and Bull, cautious.  Chris clapped his hands together and gave them a dry wash as he mustered up the courage.  “Well, um, yes… that is a good question.  If the decision had been made to protect the Qunari assets, then an alliance would be formed between the Qunari and the Inquisition.  Bull’s ties to the Ben Hassrath would be solidified and he’d eventually plant elven Qunari spies throughout Skyhold.  It doesn’t end well.”

Praxis rubbed at her temples.  “Alright, alright, but it doesn’t have to be that way right?  I mean, this timeline didn’t happen that way.”

“Think of each scenario as a book, each major decision spawning a new set of circumstances and results and new books.  There are entire volumes just on the hero of Ferelden alone.  It’s kind of like a tree with branches of possibilities that spread out.  All I have to do is find _your_ book, turn back a few pages and restart from an earlier point so this outcome doesn’t happen.”

Bull scratched at his chin, these answers were flimsy.  The entire world, everything he knew was nothing more than a festering swamp of chaos.  Permitted chaos!  Weighing Chris’ reaction, this uncertainty was the desired result.  All of it felt slimy and unnatural.  Krem’s judgement was slipping and Bull couldn’t handle this alone.  He couldn’t afford to lose his sanity again.

Flexing his fingers, he imagined punching Chris in the throat.  Watching his windpipe collapse and the successive, useless gasps while he suffocated.  Hunter would be back soon and want revenge, he’d try a tackle – pointless.  Bull would slam him against wall, kick over a chair and impale him on the upturned legs.  Krem would have his back in the heat of the moment.  He’d regret it later.  Maybe.

Then there was Praxis.  She would watch, maybe yell at him to stop, but she would know better than to stand between him and either to the men. 

 _She would never forgive you._   Mahanon’s voice rang clear in his mind.  The same as it did when they were on the Storm Coast watching the Dreadnought draw close to the shore. 

“How soon can we fix this?”  Praxis barked at Chris.

Her sharp tongue sliced through Bull’s thoughts.  He smiled as she stood over her brother-in-law, a ready stance as if she would pummel the man if he gave the wrong answer.  Or at least throw him in a headlock. 

Action, control.  This is what he needed.  The urgency and the anger in his blood ebbed.  Praxis would make it work, she always did. 

The threatening madness in his mind quieted. 

Chris poured into a barrage of nonsense.  “All of the possibilities are stored on the server.  I have an algorithm running to find the specific scenario that you participated in.  Once we have that, then we should be able to use the Eluvian to restore that timeline to an earlier save point.”

“That make any sense to you Kadan?”  checked Bull.

“Yes.  The problem I see with this plan is that if we restore to an earlier point in the timeline, what about the problem of them already being there?”  She pointed to Krem and Bull.

“Technically, they wouldn’t be here.  If we go back, stop the lyrium explosion from happening, then the chain of events that led them to crossing over to our world wouldn’t happen.”

“So we disappear?  We die?”  asked Krem. 

“Well, technically you wouldn’t die, you’d just not be here.  You still exist, because the earlier version of you still exists.”

Now Bull really wanted to punch this guy.  “Fucking shit.”

“But, we still die.  I don’t care how you put it.  _We_ , **us** , all that we’ve done up to this point dies.”  Snapped Krem.

“Which could be a lot or could be a little.  It all depends on how far back the last save point is, doesn’t it?”  Praxis stared down Chris, as though the intensity of her glare would produce the answers he didn’t have.

“I don’t know.  This is still theoretical.  The first task is finding the right timeline.  Once we know how far back we need to go, then we can postulate with solid facts.”  Chris looked up to Praxis, hopeful she would accept this.

“You say that the future can branch out from decisions, but at the core, at the beginning, it’s the same.  Isn’t it?”  Krem’s voice was devoid of emotion which sent a chill through the room. 

Chris nervously cleared his throat.  “I suppose that you’re asking about your time spent as a solider?”

Krem’s spine stiffened.  “Yeah.  That.”

“Wait, what are we talking about?  What happened when you were a solider?”  wondered Praxis.

“We, the Chargers, are not who you think we are.  The stories that Bull told, it’s bullshit.  It’s what he does best.  He left behind the dark world of spies.  Some of us have left behind worse.  Any good we’ve done since, doesn’t change what we are.  What we did.”

Praxis made an attempt to understand.  “Sometimes people are forced into doing terrible things when they have no choice.  I understand that, I understand survival.”

“And if they weren’t forced?”  Krem’s expression remained grim, the ghosts of his past coming fresh to the surface. 

She wanted to respond, Bull expected her to.  A glance at Chris let her hesitation win in the end and she remained silent.  Whether she was thinking about the team she lost years ago or the father she tried to kill in the past week, Bull wasn’t sure, but this wasn’t the type of conversation to be had in front of a sheltered person like Chris. 

Bull went on the attack once more.  “But you could have prevented all that, couldn’t you?”

To his credit, Chris did not shrink back as most would have in his position.  “And you could have taken qamek instead of being re-educated.  Lived your whole life without options, without worry.  The perfect citizen of the Qun.” 

Bull gave a faint growl, hating how the words rattled him.  He understood the point, that wasn’t the part that he disliked, it was that Chris knew so much about him that was the most disturbing.  The fewer conversations with him the better. 

Thankfully a ringing interrupted their philosophical debate.  Praxis picked up an object tied to the wall, said a few words then set it down.  “That was Hunter.  He’s got everything worked out for Mahanon, a team will be by to carry him off.  If anyone asks, he complained of being sick and we didn’t see him again.  Hunter will handle the details.”

An uncomfortable silence ensued.  Chris not knowing what to say, the rest not wanting to ask any more questions for fear of the answers. 

Eventually Praxis flopped down on the sofa.  “I’m probably a shit person, but all I can think about is going to bed.”  She then cocked her head toward Bull, “When did you last get some sleep?  You look terrible.”

Krem did a double take, as though coming to the same conclusion once she’d pointed it out.  “Chief?  Have you slept at all?”

He knew that Praxis and Krem would badger him if he protested that he had a few more hours in him, even Chris regarded him with concern so there wasn’t much point in trying to argue.  Mahanon was taken care of and Chris was waiting on news, there was nothing left that he could do. 

“Don’t remember.  Krem, you staying here with us?”

“Us?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Kadan.  We’re still ‘us’, unless you’ve changed your mind.”  In that moment, seeing her reaction gave purpose to the reason her kind invented photographs.  He wished he’d been prepared to capture this moment.  Lacking any context, anyone else would have seen her face and assumed Bull had given her the world.  Even in this world where she had prestige, family, non-magic-magical crap that could do anything she desired and all she wanted was him.  It felt damn good.

“There’s no reason to be alone.  Gimme a hand Krem, this couch pulls out to a bed, you’ll have more space this way.”  Praxis tossed the cushions to the floor and guided Krem in the correct way to manipulate the piece of furniture. 

“I’ll wait for Hunter at the front doors.  We’ll meet up with you guys in the morning.  I should have an answer for you by then.”  Chris started to leave, but aborted so he could blurt out in one breath, “I’m sorry if this is weird but can I touch your horns?”

His faced reddened, clearly embarrassed but his curiosity had ‘em by the balls.  Bull had to laugh, then knelt to give him an easy reach.  “Yeah, sure.  Just don’t get too handsy or you’ll have to finish me off with a hand job.” 

Everyone chuckled in amusement, releasing the tension in the room.  A good many people had touched his horn, permission or no, and Chris was one of the few people who did so with extraordinary reverence, as though his physical pride were a work of art.  He squeezed to test their firmness and ran a finger over the tips to gauge the sharpness.  “Don’t feel bad if you’re jealous, most are.”

“They- you, are simply astounding.”  Cooed Chris.

“Aw, really?  And here I didn’t even have to make my tits dance.”  Bull gave him a playful nudge.  “Wanna see anyway?”

Krem scoffed, “Easy there Chief, we don’t need to go an’ make the poor man ill.” 

The laughter came more readily this time around.  Checking on Krem, he saw that Praxis had arranged bedding and pillows for him.   

“I see that you’re all settled for the night, I’ll let myself out.”  Chris gave Praxis a hug before departing.  “I still can’t believe this is real.  Good night, sleep tight, we’ll see you in the morning.”

Bull put an arm around Praxis, she leaned into his embrace.  “Sleep tight, Chris.”  When the door shut, she gave a heavy sigh.  “So, I guess we have a plan?”

“Yeah, seems like.  Did you know that Cullen, Hawke, and Alistair are here as well?”  Krem stripped himself of the borrowed sweats that matched Bull’s and crawled into the couch-bed. 

“Yes, Hunter has guys looking for them.”  Following Krem’s example, Praxis happily disrobed all the way to her smalls then took Bull by the hand, leading him to the bed. 

When she sat on the edge, Bull pointed to her feet.  “Show me how these work.” 

He paid attention as Praxis demonstrated how she could remove and attach the fancy new prosthetics.  Holding one in each hand, he marveled at how light they were.  “Hard to believe these are strong enough to support you.”

“I know right?  They’re actually stronger than any metal in Thedas.  Battlefield tough.  Amazing what the guys in manufacturing can do now.”  She tugged on his arm, reeling him in close to her.  She kissed his nose lightly, smiled.  She kissed his mouth, taking his bottom lip with hers then bit down with a cheeky giggle, savoring his taste.  “Come to bed, Innamorato.”

Crawling over her body, he felt the mattress give and his aching muscles swooned at the promise of a comfortable sleep.  He fell over on his side and let his weight sink into the bed, his eye rolling back in his head at how the mattress cradled him. 

“Shit’s sake, is this the first time you’ve laid down?”

He gave an incoherent mutter and his eye refused to open again.  Praxis curled against him.  Her hands ghosted over his skin.  Soothing.  Calming.  Krem’s soft snoring brought some normalcy to the night.  He felt his own mind begin to drift, until there was a set of lovely legs straddled across his hips.

He hummed with pleasure as his hands blindly found her hips and rocked her body against his in the most delicious way.  The idea of sex set his cock twitching, but he knew there was nothing left in him, mentally or physically.

“Kadan…”  His words dissolved into an involuntary moan. 

She pressed her hands over his pecs, firmly pressing into the tense muscles and dragging at the knots beneath the skin.  It felt good, but the playfulness he expected was missing.

“I’m sorry.”  Bull looked at her.  Her eyes, her apologetic movements all correlated with the remorse in her voice.  “I’m sorry for everything.  Mahanon, Dalish, Dorian…you being here, going through this…”

He put his hands on her thighs, rolling the muscles in comfort but allowing her to cry.  It was subdued and somber.  Painful.  His first reaction was to shrug it off, another shit day, just like any other.

But it wasn’t.  Nothing compared to this.

Checking on a sleeping Krem, he gave silent thanks, then pulled Praxis back down to his side.  He curled tightly around her, kissing her neck and hair, then finally her lips while breathing her in.  “We’ll start new in the morning.”

She took a few deep breaths, pressing down her pain and pushing aside the last of her tears.  “Yes, that’s actually a great idea.”

That was what he needed, resiliency, readiness.  Move forward and make things happen.  He smiled at her while squeezing her plump ass.  “You’re ready for a fresh start then, huh?”

Giggling, she curled her hands under her chin.  “Yup.  I’m going to burn _soo_ many bridges.”


	17. Over Protective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break. I wrote the chapter, then deleted it, wrote it, deleted it - so this is where we are.

They’d come in the middle of the night.  They were good.  Professional.

Bull kept his breathing even, watching Praxis’ snoozing form draped across him rise and fall.  The security for the remote camp was impressive and the additional security for the buildings was more than even the most paranoid noble would consider.  It hadn’t taken Bull long to realize the camp fell under a divided rank of leadership that worked synergistically toward common goals.  The dynamics were no different than a palace full of nobles, everyone worked under a single head prick, but each had their own agenda.  Although this place seemed to have less of the backstabbing.  He had to wait and determine which side, which faction, these stealthy intruders fell under.

Cracking his eye ever so slightly, he saw a familiar green sheen on their faces that let him know they could see better than he in the dark.  It didn’t really give them that much of an advantage, Bull knew exactly where everything was in the room, especially the objects that could be used as weapons.  The forms relaxed against the wall, one of them taking up a chair, settling in for the night.

Watching.  They had to be Hunter’s people.  Satisfied with the intruders’ identity, Bull began to drift asleep.  An odd thought occurred to him and he wondered what it would take to earn the man’s trust.  Not that he needed to, he was just idly curious. 

 

Trumpets sounded, crisp and sharp, slicing through the tranquility of the early morning.  Praxis jack-knifed up out of a dead sleep and Bull reacted just as quickly - protect.  He was on his feet and slammed two of the hired guards against the wall. 

“Wait!  Easy, babe!  They’re Hunter’s people.”  She yawned then waved at the appointed ‘chaperons’ to wait outside the door. 

The guards didn’t say a word, but the glances over their shoulder were enough of a warning for Bull – _don’t’ touch, we’re right here._ Bull slumped down on the bed, one ear cocked to the window to hear the last of the notes of Reveille play.  Krem tossed over to his side and crammed a pillow over his ear. 

“What’s with the prick on the bugle?” Bull asked.

 “It’s a recording that’s played each morning.  Signifies the start of the day.  There’s also music at five, the national anthem, which signals the end of the work day.  Then there’s taps played at night letting everyone know when to go to bed.”

“What the Tamassrans wouldn’t give for that kind of mind control.”  Bull grumbled and rubbed at his eye.  “But probably not that specific one.  Too damn chipper for first thing in the morning.” 

“It is effective.  I used to be able to shit, shower, scrub in less than five minutes back at the academy.”  She shrugged her shoulders.  “Some stuff will never leave ya, no matter how long it’s been.”

Praxis slid off the bed.  “Where you going?” 

“To the bathroom, you my keeper or something?”

“Just didn’t want to miss the show if you were going to crawl around naked like that.”  She was capable of ‘walking’ on her knees, but she once explained to Bull that she preferred to crawl on all fours to take some of the pressure off her kneecaps. 

“You like having someone watch?  Should I ask them to come back?”  Suddenly a pillow smacked her in the face.

“Still trying to sleep!”  Krem shouted.

She rolled her eyes before continuing toward the bathroom, “Krem, I don’t remember you being this irritable in the morning.”

“Oh yes he has, he’s a bit of a _sour Krem_ when he first wakes up!”

Her laughter was incredible.  For the first time since arriving in this shithole of a world, the tension had finally broken.  A bit of normal seeped into the room and it was fucking great.

Bull followed her, knowing better than to render help when it wasn’t asked for.  She ran the shower and tossed a folded towel on the bottom so it was more comfortable to stand.  He watched her routine, using every single vial of specific cleaner made available.  It was strange to think that there was such a significant difference in the composition of face soap and body soap. 

“You alright in there?”  The Bull leaned against the counter. 

“Yeah, just…still trying to process everything I guess.  It’s still strange to have you here.”  She rinsed soap out of her hair then reapplied a second soap.  “How are you doing?”

“Same.”  A stretch of silence.  “What do we do now?”

Praxis began soaping up a washrag.  “First, clean up, dress, get food then wait for word from Chris or Hunter.”

Krem walked in, rubbing at his eyes and grumbling under his breath.  He squeezed past Bull to the toilet.  Neither Praxis or Bull paid him any mind as he sat down to relieve himself.

Praxis kept up the idle chatter.  “I think you’ll like the chow hall here.  Good selection, better than Inquisition rations.”

“I hope that means it’s your treat?”  It was a partly a tease, but also letting her know that they had no money.

“Lucky for you, the rules for a person missing in action is that for the duration of their absence, they still get paid. The military may try to take some of it away depending on what the courts say about my ‘conduct’, but that is a problem for Future Praxis.  So, yes, definitely my treat.”  Turning the water off, she then threw a nearby dry towel over her shoulders.  “Krem, you want next?”

He had one arm around his waist and the other supporting this drowsy head.  “Hmm?  Yeah, sure.” 

Praxis stretched her arms toward The Bull, “Carry me?”

Bull lived for these moments.  Although it was reaffirmation of his masculinity to pick up his lithe lady, it was more so knowing he had her trust that satisfied him the most.  Taking her towel, he wrapped her up before lifting her off her knees and up to cradle in his arms.  She pressed her face against his chest and hummed in contentment.

Each moment was uncertain.  Each breath a gift.  Bull curled her close to him and whispered in her ear.  “Make love to me.”

She hugged him around the neck, and exuberant giggle bubbling forth.  “I thought you’d never ask.  I’ve missed you so much.”

They fell on the bed together, Praxis twisting to sit across his hips.  Bull inched and squirmed to lay in the center.  Praxis slid down, showering his chest, his stomach, his thighs with kisses.  It wasn’t _just_ kisses, she pressed her face into his skin, smiling as she relished in the feel of him.  Bull never tired of how she lavished him, _all of him_ , with adoration.

Working her way further down, she finally came to a stop at his knee.  The bad one.  She searched his face for permission, waiting on his say.  Bull gave a small nod, then pinched his eye shut.  It always hurt, but with her, it was a good hurt.  She started by working the joint and stretching the muscles.  His face contorted as his eye teared up in a natural reaction.  The Chargers looked up to him as a symbol of strength, of dominance.  It wouldn’t do for them to know bad things really were.    

Nor how much he enjoyed being pampered.  Just as they didn’t judge each other for their fetishes or fantasies in bed, Praxis never teased him about this indulgence. 

Once the rough part was done, Praxis treated him like a royal babe.  She worked a cream into his feet, loving on his toes and cleaning out the nails.  Feeling all the work being done so low on his body, Bull’s spine relaxed further into the soft mattress, ever thankful it didn’t have to contort to accomplish the work. 

His hands were next.  She massaged the palms with both thumbs, cradling his hand and pressing hard with each swipe.  The cream’s scent wafted up to his nose, the strength of it ticking the inside.  It smelled more like a sweet, citrus dessert than a beauty product.  As her soft fingers worked him over deftly, he became acutely aware of how calloused his skin was.  He had no regrets concerning his methods in shaping it so, only a better appreciation for the risky lifestyle he chose to provide Praxis with silken hands, Krem with a sense of pride and authority, Rocky with encouragement for his crazy projects, Dalish…

“Go for my horns.”  He needed to wipe his mind clean.  A new focus, a new mission.  They were going to fix this shit. 

Praxis wiggled behind him, her legs tucked under his arms in their familiar intimate entanglement.  She’s learned exactly how to do it in a manner that made Bull moan like a wanton whore.  Alternating between soft and rough sent Bull’s consciousness spiraling downward, his guard dropping, reality falling off the horizon – there was nothing left in the world.  He felt every bit the mindless animal that most labeled him as.  Instincts were all that remained as he lay helpless in her lap, begging like a dog for her attention, her love. 

After a period of unmeasured time, Praxis lightly tapped his shoulder.  “Innamorato, Krem’s done.”

His body made a strong argument to stay in bed, and he felt dirty for how much he felt swayed by it.  Focus.

Rolling out of bed, he picked up Praxis’ clothes from the night before and tossed them at her.  She put them on with a grimace.  “I want to go to my room for a clean set.  Besides, my meds are there too.”  When Bull began to put on his clothes she stopped him.  “Whoa, whoa, didn’t they give you more than one set of clothes?”

“Yes, there’s more in the closet.”  His eye narrowed curiously.

“Then wear something clean!”  Her exasperation was hilarious, as if _he_ were the weird one in this scenario.  “You’re not in the field.”

“Getting fancy on me, are you?” 

Krem entered the room and went directly for the clean ones in the closet, cocking an admonishing brow at Bull. 

“I don’t mind getting dirty out of necessity, but here there’s no need.  C’mon, I can’t stand the idea of wearing dirty clothes after a shower.” 

 

The guards followed them up the two flights of stairs to her assigned room, then posted themselves outside.  Her appointments were identical to his – bathroom, tiny kitchen, living area, and bedroom. 

When she opened the narrow closet, The Bull let out a low whistle.  “All of these uniforms are yours?”  He thumbed through them as she gave them names - multi-cam, mess dress, dress greens, and PT gear. 

“No armor?”  Krem observed from surveying the small space.

“Nah, that’s issued depending on the threat environment of the location we’re sent to.  Same with weapons, chem gear, and pro gear.” 

Stopping at her dress service coat, he ran a finger over the dangling miniature medals.  “Fancy.  Everybody get these?”

“No.”  Her face blushed and she pushed it back to reach a set of sweats.  “It’s just for balls and award ceremonies.  And promotions.  Shit like that.”

“So, your soldiers go to balls?”  Krem chuckled.

“There’s one every year.  I never really saw the point in them other than giving the spouses a chance to dress up.  Sometimes they’re fun.  Depends on the rules of engagement laid out by the commander.  One year, we had a guy that posted the cops out front as a trap to catch those who’d over indulged.  Nobody liked that asshole.  The following year the turnout was so poor that they ended up cancelling the event entirely.” 

“You can get in trouble for drinking too much?”  When Praxis nodded, The Bull bellowed with laughter.  “That’s downright Qunari of ‘em!”

Praxis giggled while tying her sneakers.  “Mismanagement of money, adultery, even a sunburn can land you in hot water.”

Krem joined them in laughter, “A sunburn?”

Taking on a formal tone, Praxis quoted.  “Article 108 under the Uniform Code of Military Justice prohibits the destruction or damage of government property whether intentional or through negligence.”

“They’ve got you right pampered don’t they?”  The Bull helped her stand up.

“You damn right, wait till you see the chow hall.”

On the way out the door, Bull noticed a collection of bright orange bottles on the kitchen counter.  Praxis shoulders slumped to see a bright yellow note attached to the cluster. 

_You’re not taking your meds.  I counted.  I know I ask a lot, but please, for fucks sake do this for yourself._

Hunter and Praxis were too much alike.  Both stubborn and both fairly convinced that only one of them was right.  He squeezed Praxis’ shoulder as she debated taking the pills.  “He cares for you.  You know that right?”

With a grimace, she opened two bottles and downed the pills without even glancing at the others.  “Yeah, but he can be overprotective sometimes.”

Krem opened the door to reveal the guards waiting in the hall.  “No shit, you think?”

 

The morning was chilly, reminding Bull of the Hissing Wastes.  The walk to the dining hall was as boring as a walk through a base would be.  Praxis pointed out a few buildings and their uses since there was nothing remarkable about the barren landscape.  The excitement began when they crossed paths with a troop that wore sweat soaked clothing, the name ‘marines’ printed down the legs. 

Praxis clearly knew one of the men.  “Hey L.T., you guys have a good workout this morning?”

The group gave Bull odd looks, typical, yet what interested him the most was the way the men regarded Praxis when the Lieutenant addressed her, after rendering a smart salute.  “Good morning Major Praxis.  Yes, ma’am, it was a great run.”

Praxis turned her head in the direction of the group’s travel then back ahead.  “Isn’t he chow hall that way?  Where are you guys going?”

“Showers ma’am.  New Air Force rules – no PT gear permitted in the dining facility.”

“Oh really?”

Bull had heard that tone before.  That lovely, perky, deviously masked innocuous tone that meant murder was on her mind.  He kept his reaction neutral, however, the guards they had been assigned, sniggered openly.

“C’mon L.T. let’s get your crew some fucking breakfast.”  Praxis started walking forward, not even concerned if the group followed. 

They did of course. 

Bull wondered at the dynamics on the base.  He assumed rumors of his presence had made their rounds, but now he wondered at Praxis’ reputation. 

He knew they reached their destination by the neatly printed sign labeling the building ‘Dining Facility’.  Inside there was a sentry of sorts, a single person looking at individuals’ identification cards. 

The unarmed sentry eyed the conglomeration and he answered as sternly as possible, “No civilians are permitted in the DFAC.  I have already turned them back for violation of the dress code.”

Praxis stepped forward defiantly.  “What have you done today?  When did you wake up?  These fine folks were up before reveille, busting their ass to be mission ready and you punish them for that?”

The sentry sulked back, licking his lips awkwardly as he clearly hoped someone would come out of nowhere to help him out.  “I’m just following the rules, ma’am.  They have to go shower and change before eating at the DFAC.” 

Swiveling her head, Praxis found the posted rules nailed into the wall.  “What?  These rules?”  A glance at Bull and snap of her fingers had Bull ripping the placard off the wall and setting it in her hands.  “I don’t see any rules against these fine warriors showing up for some fucking food.  Let them pass.”

By now, most those already eating were watching the events unfold at the main door.  The standoff attracted the attention of a more senior rank, who came to the doorman’s aid.

“Good morning, Major Praxis.”  The man gave some pause as he took in Bull’s height, but his expression of surprise turned to one of disgust when he noticed the rules placard in Praxis’ hand.  “Ma’am, the rules are put in place by leadership to ensure that all diners are able to enjoy their meals without it smelling like a gym in here.”

“No, sounds like one person was offended and instead of cleaning out their sandy vagina, they imposed rules to punish others.  Can I smell these guys?  You damn right I do.  It’s the fucking smell of freedom.”  Praxis waved at the Lieutenant.  “Go on, get your boys some grub.”

The marines started slowly, but when they were met with no opposition, they scurried past to let Praxis deal with any fallout.

The supervisor rubbed at his forehead in resignation then lowered his voice.  “Ma’am, you know they’re going to come for you about this.”

Praxis smiled as she pat the man on the shoulder.  “No worries, be sure to let them know I bullied you into it.”

The younger troop cleared his throat and spoke to his supervisor.  “Sarge, what do we do about the civilians?”

His gesture drew attention to Bull and Krem, the Supervisor turned to Praxis.  “Well, technically you’re not supposed to bring civilians in here either, which includes your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?!”  Bull huffed up indignant and jabbed a thumb at his own chest.  “I’m not her boyfriend, I’m her _Bullfriend._ If you’ve got any _beef_ with that, you better prepare your _angus_  for an ass kicking.  Better yet, let’s raise the _steaks,_ you go _herd_ up some support and I’ll take on all of you for _heffer._ ”  At the last word, he sloppily wrapped an arm over Praxis’ shoulder and tugged her in close. 

Krem rolled his eyes.  Praxis shot him an indulgent smile. 

The Supervisor tried to suppress a full-on laugh.  “Holy shit, did you seriously just come up with that?”

Bull grinned with unabashed pride, “Oh, it’s a skill I have _horned_ over the years.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s like he’s a deadly Sesame Street character.”  The man looked behind the group and saw more diners filing in.  “Alright, just go.  Fuck it.”

Praxis still held the pilfered sign and when they reached the first line of food offerings, she presented the placard as if it were a plate.  “I’d like a western omelet with no tomatoes please.”

The young troops, or airmen as Praxis called ‘em, were less uptight.  Seems that once you were past the door guard things were good. 

With the small bit of drama out of the way, Bull finally had time to look around and actually take in the way the dining facility was laid out.  There wasn’t a single line that doled out the daily rations.  There were multiple islands of food with their own line.  Watching the Marines, it turned out to be more efficient than it appeared at first glance.  There was so much food offered that it would be an impressive feat if someone could actually eat one of everything.  Breaking them up allowed for better flow, some grabbed only hot food, some only a bowl of fruit.  The restraint of the soldiers struck Bull the most.  Today wasn’t a special day, this was _everyday,_ to the point that the pastry island with its cookies and chocolate donuts went mostly untouched. 

Bull took full advantage and piled his tray high.  Food hadn’t been a high priority to Hunter and the food he had been given, he’d made Praxis eat.  She blamed her weight on the new feet, but after helping her put them on, he knew that she’s lost weight. 

They settled at an empty table.  At this point the ambient noise of conversations had started back up again.  Krem sat with his tray spilling over and stared, bewildered at where to start.

The Bull ate two chocolate muffins before asking, “So, you know that guy at the door?  The older one.”

“Yeah, we worked together a few years back.  He went on a mission that shook him up pretty back, transferred over to food service.  I think he plans on being a chef of some sorts when he retires.  For now, he manages this place – the food prep, the orders, everything.”

Krem twirled a large sausage on his fork.  “Aren’t you worried you’re going to spoil the soldiers to the point that when they have to go to the front lines they don’t eat like this?”

“They do eat like this on the front lines.  Those meals my team ate at Skyhold?  Those are basically emergency rations.  Typically, there is a set up similar to this to keep everyone fed.  Might be in a building, might be a tent.”

“Shit.”  Krem glanced around the room.  “You’d think these bastards would be bigger than the Chief eating like this every day.” 

Sipping at her coffee, Praxis watched a new group enter the building as she spoke.  “Nah, large and bulky isn’t considered sexy.  Lean with some bulk is, but I’m not sure where one draws the  line.  Still boils down to personal preference.  I obviously prefer large and bulky.”

She savored the cookie crumb-crusted kiss The Bull passed her, then lowered her eyes with a groan at the group approaching their table.  She should have stood when she recognized him, but instead waited until spoken to.

“Major Praxis.”

She stood sharply, thumbs pressed smartly at the seam of her pants.  “General Kilgore, sir.”

Kilgore’s eyes slowly fell on the improvised food tray.  “I see that you continue to push the credentials of your rank.”

He left her at attention, eyes locked at nothing, spine stiff.  “The whole point of rank is to take care of your people.”

“Watch it.”  Snapped one of the General’s entourage. 

Bull clenched his hand to a fist.  His muscles tensed, but he sipped delicately at his orange juice.

“At ease.”  There was no doubt that Kilgore intended for the command to apply to his crony, but Praxis shifted her legs apart and crisply clamped her hands behind her back, freeing her gaze to look at who spoke. 

“Although I can appreciate the bravado you have accrued over your distinguished career, you need to bear in mind that you can’t do whatever you want.”

“On the contrary General, _you_ can’t do whatever you want because you still have aspirations for a career.  My life is over. You want my continuity?  Give me a day off base, with my friends, and I will give you everything you need.”

The General’s stoic expression lightened slightly.  One of the Lieutenant Colonels in the group crossed her arms.  “Some of us are already tired of your games.  Why don’t we incarcerate you and get our answers by other methods?”

“Have fun with that.  You’ve had two years to get your answers without me, I know you’ve been through everything I own.  My passwords aren’t that hard.  I hope you all enjoyed my personal porn selection by the way.  If you could have figured it out by now, you would have.  This is the easiest trade you could possibly make – give me a day, with my people, and you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

“The Courts Martial doesn’t go away.”  Kilgore stated.

“I know, but granting me a day of freedom from the base will make everything go a lot smoother, don’t you think?”  At this point, she gave up all pretense and dismissed herself from parade rest to sit at the table.

Kilgore watched with obvious disapproval, weighing the options.  “Alright, twenty-four hours.  Clock begins on the next flight out, first flight back.”

The same crony from earlier jumped in, pointing at Bull.  “But sir, look at him.  He can’t simply walk the streets looking like that.”

Kilgore actually chuckled, “Not my problem.  Besides, it’s Vegas.  I doubt anyone will notice.  Weston Technologies will continue to provide escort.  Work out the details with them.”

Everything seemed settled, normal.  Until Kilgore reached across the table, snagged Praxis by the shirt and hauled her halfway up over the table.  Both Bull and Krem shot to their feet, Kilgore was the only one who didn’t back away.

Kilgore sneered in her face. “No more fuck-fuck games.  Got it?”

The hall was so quiet, a mouse fart would have been deafening. 

Bull placed his hand calmly over the General’s clenched fist, squeezing.  “We got it.”

At this point, Bull was certain he heard someone piss themselves. 

Kilgore tightened his grip.  Do did Bull.  A knuckle popped and Kilgore smiled it off as he let go.  “Alright.  Then you better get to planning.  Twenty-four hours, Major.”  He turned to leave, then paused to have his final say.  “A Kenneth Praxis was found dead at a homeless camp the other day.  Strangled with no leads.”  His eyes grazed over Bull a little too long.  “Yet.”

Krem snorted as the group left, “Does that guy really think he’s intimidating?”

Brushing bits of her breakfast off her shirt, Praxis turned sharply on Bull, her voice low.  “What was that? You?” 

“Kadan, this isn’t the place…”

Praxis fell into her chair, her eyes unfocused and her posture boneless.

Bull pulled his chair closer to wrap an arm over her shoulder.  “Kadan, what do you need?”

“Why?”  Her voice was scratchy.

“I know what you tried to do.  I don’t blame you and I didn’t want you to blame yourself.  That is not a burden you should bear.  It’s not who you are.” 

She looked up at him, water lined her eyes.  “Neither are you.”

“Sunset.”  A whisper, and yet she flinched as if he were about to strike her.  “Sunset, you don’t know what I’ve done.  Trust me when I say, I can handle this and you don’t want to know what it’s like.”

Bull watched the gears behind her eyes working, his gut dying to know what she was thinking but her face betrayed nothing. 

She took a deep, cleansing breath then stood to take The Bull’s hand.  “I wanna go home.” 

“Gotta warn ya, the place is probably a complete mess.”  Krem answered, his mouth half full of food.  “They set off an explosion when we were captured.”

She shook her head, “No, Hunter’s place.  He inherited our mother’s home.  I want to go there.”  She wiped her eyes clean and plastered on a forced smile.  “But first, I’d like to show you some of the city.”

 


	18. And It All Falls into Place & Then Apart

After The Bull’s revelation, Praxis kept to herself, both men giving her space.  Chris and Hunter found them in Praxis’ room in Galactica.  They’d been informed of Kilgore’s decision and had already worked out a plan to get them back into town.  Chris was the one who the most excited and his enthusiasm lifted Praxis’ spirits slightly.  If anything, it was a good distraction.

Praxis gathered a few belongings then led them to the terminal.  She stopped outside the main doors and turned on The Bull and Krem.  "Alright.  When we enter this building, there is one rule: don't talk to anyone.  If bump into someone, don't even say you're sorry.  You recognize someone, keep your mouth shut.  I can't stress this enough."

Krem narrowed his eyes while crossing his arms.  "Why?"

"There are all kinds of shit that goes on here.  I don’t know what these people do and I don’t want to know. I don’t know where these people go at the end of the day and they don't know where I go.  No one knows everything and it needs to stay that way."

Krem gave a small nod.  She turned to The Bull, "Please, no jokes.  Nothing.  Not a word."

Taking her gently by the chin, he tilted her up for a slow kiss.  The chaste restraint in his kiss gave her the reassurance she sought. "Of course, kadan."

Satisfied, she turned to enter the building, but one step before the doorway, The Bull gave her ass a quick, subtle pinch.  In spite of herself she jumped.  She wasn't sure why she was nervous.  The plan was solid and being out in public was safer than being on base, yet it all felt fake.  

Part of the reason she’d stayed on base since her return from Thedas was to purposefully avoid her father.  The pattern was always the same.  The phone would ring and Ken would be on the other end.  Lying.  Saying all the things her six-year-old self once dreamed to hear.   Then he’d ask for a favor.  This was supposed to be the last time, she’d even gotten Tran to lace the drugs to ensure it would be the last time.  Now, instead of her being to blame, it was The Bull.

The Bull walked beside her.  Her father's murderer.  Kilgore didn't make idle threats and The Bull hadn't denied it.  Glancing at his large hands, she wondered how they figured it out.  Skin under the nail?  Hair on his clothes?  A fingerprint?  Coming from Thedas, he'd never consider those things.  If there were no witnesses, then there was no culprit.  Death was simpler there.  

Arriving at the terminal, Praxis picked out their seats and they waited.  Although the room was mostly full, it was dead quiet.  The space was similar to an airport except there were no windows.  No one ever knew what the plane looked like and judging by the constantly changing interior, it wasn’t the same plane each trip.    

Travel to and from the base was as big an enigma as the higher ups could make it.  Each day the plane made different stops in a different order.  This was the main reason most chose to live on the base for days or even weeks at a time.   

The Bull's eye glazed over as he stared at nothing.  Krem kept his head low.  After twenty minutes, a crew opened a door and the waiting crowd filed through the tunnel to be deposited in an unmarked aircraft.  

“Pass?”  Tickets weren’t used.  Instead people had passes issued by supervisors.  No one left without permission.  Another means of controlling information and work allocation.

“Here.  This is for the three of us.”  A rare occurrence since typically people left as individuals.  With a sigh she explained.  “It’s a multi-pass, for myself, Dallas and Corbin here.”  She pointed to The Bull and Krem.

The gate clerk verified the pass, then returned it with a knowing grin.

Inside the plane, the wider aisles weren’t quite wide enough.  The Bull had to carefully tilt his horns to reach his seat.  They were given odd looks by other passengers, usually even coworkers made a point not to sit together, but Praxis wasn't going to leave their sides.  Everything had been a whirlwind, for them as well as herself.  

She had to talk to Chris when they returned.  There was always hope that he had good news or a new solution.  

_Yeah, right.  Not with my luck._

Her quiet scoff drew The Bull's attention.  She took him lovingly by the hand and waited for takeoff.  

The flight had been uneventful, except for Krem's cursing when they had a less than smooth landing.  Getting off the plane had rules as well.  People left one by one, a few minutes apart.  Praxis already knew that some of them lived in the city proper, but once off the plane, they would never talk or acknowledge each other.  

Instead of heading into the main terminal, they veered into the employees’ section and waited in an empty alcove with shelves of cleaning supplies.  Eventually, their assigned security team, chosen by Hunter, joined them with bags in tow - two each for Krem and The Bull.  

The Bull eagerly grabbed at his bag and pulling at the zipper had pieces of armor spilling out.  "Yes!  Finally!"

"About time."  Krem added as they shucked their sweats for the familiar comfort of padded armor.

Praxis helped them both with back buckles and straps before swapping her clothes too.  She and the security team changed into black pants with matching t-shirts with red writing on the front and back.  

"You confident this'll work, Kadan?"  he'd asked Praxis. He watched the other strap conceived weapons under their thin clothes.

Praxis shrugged.  "Chris swears it will.  I have to admit, it’s not the worst idea."  

One of the men with them piped in, "It always works.  This isn't the first time I've done this."

Her instinct was to smother the man with questions about for whom, when, and why he'd had to do this before, but she knew he'd never tell.  Biting her tongue, she waited for the final touch - the weapons.  Krem received a long sword and The Bull a double headed axe.  

"Now this feels much better."  The Bull had an overly pleased grin that warmed her heart.  It was like watching a child at Christmas.  Fuck, he was wonderful.  

The security team lead noted everyone’s state of dress then turned to Praxis.  "Major, you ready?"

“Okay, let’s go.”  Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her phone and turned airplane mode off.  It immediately lit up with notifications which she ignored.  None were from Hunter or Chris.  Cringing in disgust, she shoved it back in her pocket and headed up their group.

A giddy energy filled her chest the moment she pushed open the doors that led to the main airport.  She wondered how The Bull felt.  Afraid?  Excited?  She felt torn between protecting him and showing off all the wonders of her world.

Too late now, they were committed.

As anticipated, they collected many stares.  Expressions jumped from surprise, to wonder, then indifference.  The Bull and Krem had been instructed to strut and for the most part ignore the crowds.  It was only when they were given direct attention that they should pose and flex.  Praxis and the security team were crowd control in the event they drew too much attention.  Chris’ company logo was emblazoned on the front and back of their clothes and all questions were to be answered with “new product promotion”.

The Bull and Krem had been warned that some people might recognize them and ask questions which they could choose to answer or not.  If anyone would know, it’d be them.  However, knowing they might be recognized didn’t seem to prepare them when the first group accosted them.

“Are you part of the new installment of Dragon Age?”

“How long before it’s released?”

“Your armor looks amazing!”

“Are you from Tevinter?  Will there be more about that country?  Do we get to see any of it?”

The Bull looked to be doing alright, but Krem looked the most uncomfortable.  Praxis jumped in, “Hey, who wants a picture?”

She collected phones and helped arrange the group and suggested how the boys should hold their weapons.  It was an easy way to dismiss the group and keep moving onward.  She moved next to Krem, “You okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah, it’s just…weird.  Strange to think so many would be interested in us like that, you know?”

“For many people, their lives are fairly mundane.  Wake up, go to work, come home, eat, go to bed.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  Mercenaries?  That’s exciting!  Adventure!  And it’s through someone else who has to deal with the danger aspect.”

Krem scoffed, “Yeah, no shit.  Still, the way they act, is really weird.”

“I guess celebrities aren’t a big thing in Thedas?”

“Not under the Qun.”  The Bull answered, keeping his eye forward, never letting his guard down.  “You’d have to be dead before anyone would consider venerating your life.  It instills too much pride to be fawned over while still alive.”

She nudged her shoulder into The Bull’s side, “I don’t see you dismissing the attentions of the wait staff at the Tavern.”

He finally looked at her with a devilish grin, “That’s different, Kadan.”

“Yeah, you’d actually have to fell more enemies on the battlefield than the bedroom to get the right kind of attention.”  Krem tossed out.

Praxis laughed her ass off while The Bull punched Krem’s shoulder, mumbling under his breath that damn Vints didn’t know how to count.

By the time they had reached the taxi lane outside, they’d only met with two more groups of people who were curious enough to walk up and talk.  Each time, asking to do pictures quickly ended the interaction.  Mostly because the fans were overly eager to get on social media and show off.

A large van met them in the pickup lane outside the airport.  Praxis was the first to climb aboard.  “We’ll hang out at Hunter’s place until night time, Vegas is more fun at night.”

The drive to the suburbs was quiet.  Krem and The Bull kept their eyes glued to the window, periodically asking questions about billboards and businesses. Lawyers turned into a fascinating topic.  The whole concept of suing someone was both confusing and entertaining to them.

When they entered the residential area, there were still more questions.  “Why is that house blue?”

Praxis raised a brow at The Bull.  “Is that really bothering you?”

“None of the others are such a bright color, thought there was something behind it.”

“I have no clue, babe.”

“Have you ever asked them?”

Shaking her head, she said.  “No.  I don’t even know those people.”

“You don’t know your brother’s neighbor?”

“No, why would I?  I don’t know any of them.”  She waved her hand at the window to indicate the entire neighborhood.

After making the statement, she processed his observation.  It was understandable that she wouldn’t know everyone in such a large city, but there honestly wasn’t an excuse to not know the people who lived immediately around your own home.  She began to mull over the thought, wondering why meeting neighbors was passé.  

Before long, they pulled into a long driveway, a private gate closing behind the vehicle.  A tall concrete fence lined the property and thick trees provided privacy.  The two-story home was massive by Praxis standards.  She preferred the bare minimum, less to deal with.  This home had been chosen by Kenneth, who had been eager to seek out and collect all the expensive toys and tokens that announced a person wealthy.  At over five thousand square feet, it was plenty of room for Hunter, Chris, and the kids.  Praxis wondered if the offer for her to move in with them still held.

The security team split up, most of them disappearing to guard the perimeter.  As the trio walked into the home, The Bull gave a loud chuckle.  “Plain.  Simple.  Here I thought you were the only one lacking decorating talent.”

She shrugged the comment off with a smile.  “The style is considered ‘modern’ going off the whole ‘less is more’ concept.”

Krem took in the grey tile floor, the off-white walls and the sparse wall décor.  “So this would be most-est?”

Laughing, Praxis led the way into the kitchen.  “Yup.  Pretty much.”

The family room and the kitchen made for one large open space.  A wall of windows looked out over the back yard and swimming pool.  The Bull stood in front of the sliding glass door to watch the pool lights change the water’s color.  In that moment, her heart ached.  She wanted to have a home with him in it.  Someone to come back to, someone who wanted her.  Someone who didn’t leave her feeling like a burden.

Praxis slipped out of the kitchen without a word.  Down the hallway, she entered Hunter’s study.  The lights remained off, but the daylight through the windows was enough for her to easily pluck the small urn from the bookshelf and settle into Hunter’s overstuffed leather chair.  She cradled the plain ceramic urn in her lap, wrapping her arms around it and her knees.  Resting her head forward, cheek pressed to the cold lid, she thought on her mother.

She had been so strong for so long.  Suffering, rebounding, giving – until one day she finally snapped.  At first Praxis had been angry.  Angry that no explanation was given then angry that she had been abandoned, left with _him._  She had thought her mother selfish.  Now, given all that she had been through, going through the beginnings of heartbreak herself, she understood.  She understood the feeling of life betraying a loving heart.  Her mother had blindly loved Kenneth and when she finally opened her eyes to the horrible person he was, she couldn’t live with it.

“Please, _please,_ let Chris be right.  Please make sure that I can follow him.  I can’t- “  quietly she began to cry.  She cried at the fact she might lose The Bull.  That her mother was gone and would never meet him.  She cried that Dalish, Dorian, and Mahanon were dead.  She cried at the complete cock-up everything had become.  “Please…”

A light tapping from the door drew her attention.  The Bull poked his head through the door, his voice gentle and soft.  “Kadan, you alright?”

Wiping away the tears, she stretched out her hand, reaching for him as he walked into the room.  “I will be.”

Taking her at her word, he held her hand and gave a small nod.  “Good, because there are two children here and they’re freaking Krem out.”

Praxis couldn’t hold back her giggle.  “Him or you?”

“Maybe both.”

Setting her mother back where she belonged, Praxis joined The Bull.  The bus must have just dropped them off.  The kids were old enough to understand that their dads did important work and often times they couldn’t talk about specifics or would have guests over that the kids weren’t allowed to talk to.  Some were due to game development secrets and others were due to government secrets.

“There’s nothing weird about the twins.”  Rounding the corner to the main living space, they found Krem sitting at the kitchen island while the twins ignored him while getting snacks from the fridge.

“Jenna, Joshua, I want to introduce you to my friend Krem and my boyfriend The Iron Bull.”  The title she gave The Bull earned her a subtle pinch on the ass.  Until he’d done so, she hadn’t realized how her nerves were in a bundle.  Did she fear the kids’ disapproval of The Bull?  Did she fear his acceptance of being roped into a relationship?

The kids gave polite greetings, they're unsure glances asked a question that Praxis quickly answered.  “Yes, you can talk to them and ask them anything you wish.”

The flood gates were opened.  Immediately the questions came pouring out over the most obvious subjects – the weapons, armor, battles, how old they were, and the heaviest things they could lift.

“Mr. Bull, are you going to marry my auntie?”  Jenna asked out of the blue.

At that second, Praxis discovered that her earlier unease had definitely been due to her fear that The Bull wouldn’t accept the title of boyfriend.  They’d told each other that it wasn’t what they wanted.  She had even believed it at the time.  Now…now was different.

“Each morning I wake up happy to be with your aunt.  I can’t imagine otherwise.  If she wished me to, I would do a bonding ceremony.”  His gentle gaze lifted from Jenna and landed on Praxis.

Her heart stilled and she knew he was right.  A bonding ceremony wouldn’t change anything.  They were together, whatever the titles.  She blew him a kiss, her determination to fix Thedas firmly set in her mind.   _Anything for him._

Looking for an opportunity to give the guys a break from the relentless inquisition, Praxis butted in.  “Do you guys have any homework?”

This completely derailed the interrogation and set into motion a review of their schedules.  There was daily homework, review of a major project they had coming due, then they gave Praxis an update on their Taekwondo, Soccer and Basketball games.  Jenna was currently volunteering at the local animal rescue and Joshua volunteered at the fish farm which supported the local soup kitchen.

During the whole proceedings, The Bull and Krem dedicated their attention until Krem stated, “Maker’s balls, I think they are busier than the Inquisitor ever was.”

“Possibly.  They’re thinking ahead for college.  It’s not enough to be able to pay for it.  To gain acceptance there needs to be more than outstanding academic achievement.”

“If I want to go to college.”  Joshua added.  “Papa says that I don’t have to decide right away.”

“That’s true pumpkin.”  Praxis jumped when her phone suddenly rang.  Taking a deep breath, she had to remind herself, _he’s dead – it’s not him._

It was Hunter.  “Hey.  Look, we’ve got everything figured out but we’re also catching some heat from Kilgore.  Did you do something?”

“No more so than normal.”  She didn’t want to add to his stress.

His heavy sigh spoke volumes toward his disbelief.  “Okay.  Sure.  Just make sure you’re back here by ten tomorrow.  Ten _in the morning._ Chris is doing all the final prep so he’s staying here with me.  I’ve already called Megan and she’ll get the kids to school and watch them tonight.”  He paused.  “Just…just don’t go too crazy alright?”

She could hear his worry.  The way he wanted to coddle her and tell her not to even leave the house, yet knowing she’d never listen.  “Alright.  Promise.”

Clicking the phone off, she set it on the counter.  “Chris and Hunter are ready.  We have until morning to do, whatever.”

When she had first had the thought, a night on the town had seemed great.  Now that there was a solid deadline, a definitive end state, she felt like a prisoner on death row.  Luckily, The Bull and Krem didn’t share her point of view.

The Bull rubbed his hands together.  “So what’s in store for tonight?  Gambling?  Alcohol?  Sex?”

She’d promised Hunter she’d behave.  He should know better than to trust her to follow his rules.

***

On the ride to the Las Vegas strip, Krem and The Bull talked about what they had already seen, which honestly wasn’t much.  They’d been so focused on finding the apartment that they hadn’t paid attention to any of the landmarks or shopping centers.

“So you haven’t been inside a casino?”  Both men kept their eyes glued to the windows, watching the sights zip by.  Praxis clapped her hands together in excitement.  “Alright, I think we should go to Caesar’s Palace.”

The area they’d wandered through earlier was on the outskirts of the main strip.  The casinos there were knock offs mostly, not even historically impressive like those on Fremont street. Going to Caesar’s put them in the heart of Las Vegas Boulevard.

The van pulled to a stop in a taxi lane, the security detail shuffled off first.  Stepping out into the midmorning sun, Krem squinted at the massive white building.  Twisting about, he took in the surrounding buildings.  “They’re all different, I mean, really different.”

Across the street was the Flamingo, a basic hotel high-rise.  To the right was the Mirage, a white building with gold plated windows.  On their left the Bellagio’s fountains were in the middle of a performance, music blaring and presenting a magnificent show, bursts of water climbing as high as the hotel itself.  “It’s part of the gimmick here.  Each casino has a theme.  Each one wants to create a fun and unique experience for their guests.”

Krem nodded at Caesar’s, “Kinda creepy how this one’s so similar to Tevinter.”

“Yeah, but a lot less blood-magic-y.”  The Bull added, his head also on a swivel as he took in the sights.

“O-M-G that is amazing!  Can I get a picture?”  A group of women approached them and fawned over The Bull and Krem.

“Five bucks for both.”  Praxis claimed.  She could feel the security team bristle at the idea.

By now, her crew was accustomed to posing and she handled the cameras.  They all adored the ‘costumes’ and laughed at their inability to hold up the weapons.  They didn’t stay long as like any tourist, they were eager to move on to the next shiny and interesting thing they could find.

“You charging them Kadan?”

“Of course, it’s the strip and totally normal.  Might as well get something for being slowed down.  C’mon, let’s get going!”

They did a rather quick walkthrough of the forums, taking in the architecture and admiring all the fine goods in the stores.  None among them was looking to purchase so Praxis rushed them into the casino.  She had to check with an employee since it had been so long since the last time she’d been there.  He was helpful in pointing out a chips counter and the direction of the craps tables.

Chips acquired, she found a slow table, which wasn’t difficult so early in the day.  “Okay, The Bull, watch and let me know when you think you have it figured out.”

“Don’t you know how to play?”

“Fuck no.  I don’t gamble.”  She bumped her shoulders into him.  “Besides, this type of game seems right up your alley.”

This time he didn’t answer, his mind deconstructing the game.

“It looks like absolute nonsense.”  Krem remarked.

After about fifteen minutes, The Bull stepped up to the table, Praxis handed over her chips.

Just as she suspected, there was a rough start, but soon, The Bull was on a roll.  The three other tourists at the table cheered him on, drawing the attention of other patrons.  It wasn’t long before they had gathered quite a crowd.  More people joined in on the game.  Men and women were having The Bull blow on their dice for luck, some asking to rub his horns.  Praxis kept one eye on the game, the other on casino security.  So long as the game had a good balance of The Bull winning and the newer players losing, the House wouldn’t mind.  However, if things began to turn, she didn’t want to be escorted out.  Casinos were always happy to take people’s money, but not so happy to let winners hang about.

Luckily, it never hit that point.  As she suspected, both The Bull and Krem were having a blast with The Bull winning enough money to keep them going.  When his streak at craps fell through, they moved on to the other tables.   The crowd followed.  The sized waxed and waned depending on how well he played.  The only constant was his drinking – unceasingly.  She used her credit card to pay for top shelf liquor.  She wasn’t so much concerned with the quality, but the quantity.  They were less likely to water the drinks down if they were paid for.

Women and men draped themselves on The Bull as the night wore on.  Many took privileges with his body and he returned in kind.  Even Krem eventually succumbed to a busty red head who couldn’t keep her hands off him.  Praxis hoped he was enjoying himself some.  She knew he missed Lace fiercely.  She kept her eyes on The Bull being himself.  He laughed loudly, groped and made crude comments.  It was like a flashback to the Herald’s Rest back at Skyhold.  Praxis had to laugh at herself, thinking on those times as easy.  At least there she didn’t have to concern herself with time travel paradoxes.

At some point they were kindly asked to leave, which they did.  They’d had about all the fun they could have at the casino.  In the streets, Praxis brushed a hand over The Bull’s magnificent package to find her assumptions to be correct – all of that attention earlier had gotten him thoroughly excited.

“Wanna blow off some steam?”  She called up to him.  The crowds at night were thicker and louder than during the day.

“Yeah, where at?”

“Follow me.”  She took him by the hand and led him through the streets.  She wondered if the security detail would follow them in the building.  Then she had the wonderful idea of asking if one of them would film the escapade.  Shit, now she was super horny as well.

She yelped in excitement when she’d finally found one.  Vegas always had guys standing on street corners with the ‘naughty cards’.  There would be a picture of a prostitute on one side then a phone number and methods of accepted payment on the other.  Looking over her shoulder, she asked, “Hey, do you want a dude or a chick?”

The Bull answered with a broad, toothy grin.  “Both.”

Giggling with delight, she asked for two cards from the street handler.  Upon looking at the cards, her heart sank.  “Holy shit.  Hey!  Hey!  Lemme look at those cards.”

At first the man was reluctant, but The Bull snatched the entire stack out of his hands which sent the man jogging away.

“What is it?”  He asked as he passed the deck to her.

She didn’t answer until she’d found what she was looking for.  “Well, I guess I can call Hunter and let him know to end the search.”

She passed over three of the cards for The Bull and Krem’s inspection.  Cullen, Hawke and Alistair were prominently displayed holding their full blown erections.

“Damn.  You have to admit they look good.”  The Bull offered.

“Sure, but what do we tell them?”  Krem asked, looking among them for an answer.

“Something?  Nothing?  Shit.  They don’t even know that Mahanon passed away.”  Praxis recalled.

Krem shook his head.  “Cullen is _not_ going to take that well.”

An awkward silence fell among them.  It hung heavy in the air.  Praxis thought she’d suffocate until Krem began to march off.  “C’mon.  I’m ready to go.”

“Go?”  Praxis skipped to catch up.

“Yes.  Go.  It’s time to get this over with.  We have to fix this.”  Krem answered sternly.

She looked to The Bull for his input.  He merely shrugged his shoulders so Praxis told one of the security officers and within minutes, the van returned and they were all headed back to the airport.

***

“I have good news and bad news.”  Chris stated somberly.  “I found the file, I know which timeline is yours.  The bad news is that the last save point is chronologically for you, four years ago.”

“Fucking shit.”  Bull shook his head as he rubbed it into his hand.

“Vishente Kaffas!  Es scortum obscenus vilis!”  Krem shouted at the ceiling, using Tevene for the first time since Praxis had known him.

Praxis’ head swiveled between the two.  “What does that mean?”

“It means that we go back three years before the Inquisition is formed.  For me, that’s back to Seheron, back to re-education.”  Bull grumbled.

“Back to the army for me, and not at a good time either.”

Praxis noticed a subtle knowing glance pass between the two men.  “Alright, but with this change in the timeline, you won’t know any different, right?”

“Theoretically.  Yes.”  Answered Chris.  

The Bull cocked his head to the side as he sought to draw a better answer out of him.  “You saying there is a possibility that we might remember?”

“There’s also a possibility that it doesn’t work at all.  I mean, there are a lot of factors and we’ve never encountered this specific scenario before.”   The Bull crossed his arms with a heavy sigh and Chris continued.  “When a file is reset to an earlier state, all of the information that came after it doesn’t disappear.  It’s still there, just not accessible.  Eventually as time progresses, those memories are overwritten.”

Krem stepped forward rubbing at his eyes, “You wanna try that again?”

“Think of it as going from chapter ten in a book back to chapter five.  Those other chapters are still in the book, right?  But this time as you are going through five, six, seven, you are changing the story ever so slightly.  Or following exactly as it was before.  Free will and all that.  That’s where Praxis comes in.  After we reset, we’ll send her back to ensure that the story is changed and the mass deaths caused by Rothstein never happen.”

The Bull gestured his thumb at himself and Krem.  “But we still have to relive those four years?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least that’s one solid answer.”  The Bull grumbled.  He looked down at Praxis.  “What do you think, Kadan?”

“We have two choices – live life on the run or go for this insane plan.  Considering how quickly Kilgore linked you with Kenneth’s death, I don’t think they would give up on us easily.  I think the reset is our only viable option.”

"Alright. Let's get this over with."

***

An interesting fact about nature.

The more that mankind learns, the greater the belief that more of

nature falls under mankind’s control.

However, nature has proven to follow its own unique rules from time to time.

Especially when the hubris of mankind expects otherwise.

***

LAS VEGAS – Unnamed Range

“I still can’t believe you went through with it.”  Hunter turned sharply on Tran.  “And you!  I knew she had a screw loose, but I honestly would have expected you to say no.”

Praxis sat perched on a table, double checking the connections of her prosthetic.  “Are you seriously this displeased with my decision to kill him?”

“As much of a waste of life he was, that didn’t give you the right to kill your own father.”  Hunter stated deadpan.

“He was never a father to us.  I have no regrets.”  She started straight back at her brother until it became uncomfortable enough that he turned away.

Praxis slipped off the table and readjusted her pants to cover her fancy prosthetic.  She bounced her body and watched as the fake limb mimicked the motions of her real one.  The technology was relatively new and necessary for her to move forward with their plan.  Two years ago she had been chosen for this assignment.  She, Tran, Arthur, and Ziola had been picked to do a long-term reconnaissance mission in ‘another world’ or Stargate.  Walk through a magic portal and learn about the world beyond.  Drones had already done some ISR to provide familiarity of the terrain and weather.

Since being chosen the four of them had trained together every day.  Developing team dynamics wasn’t difficult since they had all served together previously.  The hand to hand combat was new, but easy enough to pick up and practice.  Learning to live off the land and forgo civilization for months at a time had been a trial, but doable.  They had done everything asked of them, except caving in to the pressure to remove their memorial tattoos.  All four bore the full arm sleeves of skulls and roses in honor of teammates long gone.

There was a chance they wouldn’t return.  The drones were only able to travel a short distance and what lay beyond their range was an utter mystery.  Given some of the fantastical beasts they were able to observe, it was unknown if they were a significant threat or a foreshadowing of even greater creatures.  Everyone treated this as though it were a suicide mission.  Wills were drawn up, assets secured, and goodbyes exchanged.  They were all abandoning their lives, but refused to abandon their past.  The tattoos remained.

Bearing in mind that Praxis would be cut off from earth for a prolonged period of time, a year at a minimum, she finally executed a plan she’d dreamed of for years.  She’d poisoned her father.  The abusive, manipulative, homeless druggie that had fueled her own drug habit and led her mother to suicide.  She didn’t know if the authorities had found his body yet, or if they would even do the proper tests to discover that it was poison and not a drug overdose as it would appear.  All she knew was that she’d informed Hunter and that her and Tran being gone would make it all the more difficult for law enforcement to pin anything on them.

“You ready?”  Hunter flipped a few switches and the doorway came to life.  If one tilted their head just right, it looked like a mirror.

Praxis hefted her pack on her back and joined her squad.  “Yeah, let’s do this.”

SEHERON – Reeducation Compound

The heat was oppressive, making hard labor near torture.  Salty sweat poured down his face.  He could feel the pattern the little water beads made with each slight breeze.  A heavy cart loaded down with rough cut stones trailed behind him.  Leather straps cut into his skin with each step he took.  Pain was ignored.  He thought of nothing.  Not of drink, nor rest.  Only moving forward until told otherwise.

In this moment, he was useful.

The only thing he knew of time was daylight and nighttime.  How many hours he spent working, how many days he’d been here was entirely unknown.  It wasn’t because he was incapable of keeping track, it was because he chose not to.  The Qun didn’t need him to think, so he didn’t.

The Viddasala that had been with him through his entire reeducation joined him and walked beside him.  “Today is your last day in the quarry.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  An automatic response.

“You have been deemed capable of returning to the field.”  She watched his body as she spoke, scanning his muscles, watching his eyes to see how he would respond to the news.  There was no discernable reaction.  Either he hid his displeasure well or he truly has no opinion.  Either was good enough for her.  “You will travel to Orlais and perform reconnaissance as the Qun finds necessary.  All details will be provided to you in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You have done well returning to the Qun, Hissrad.”  There were a few hours of daylight remaining and there was no point in pulling him from his current duty.  The Viddasala turned to head back to the main compound.

TEVINTER IMPERIUM – Carastes

Civil disobedience.  Disturbing the peace.  Soldiers too green to be sent to Seheron augmented the city guard when civilians were too disruptive.  During holidays, drunkenness tended to be the main culprit.  Those from notable families were carted home to their estates.  All of the others were aggressively ‘encouraged’ to leave the public squares.

One man was being particularly insubordinate.  The mix of alcohol, quat, and piss emanated from the man was beyond offensive and shortened the already irritated soldiers.

“I said get out of here!  Move it!”  A sergeant bashed the man into the gutter with his shield.

Since they weren’t there as a matter of enforcing marshal law, the soldiers were unarmed.  A shield their only equipment since it could be considered defensive.

Krem felt himself in a haze.  Looking around, everything was familiar, eerily so.  Turning back to the drunk, he could hear the man’s exact words in his mind before they were actually uttered.

“Likes it rough does you?  Jealous you can’t get a decent piece of ass?”  The man cackled.

“What did you say to me?”  The sergeant’s tone changed, a degree hotter than irritated, he was edging on livid.

In a flash, the scene came to life in Krem’s mind.

An argument.

Stubbornness, taunting.

A beating.

A man bleeding to death in the alley.

In that previous encounter, that other time, Krem had been afraid.  His desire to fit in, to be one of them, to belong had guided his actions.  In that other life, a scared child had done what he thought necessary.  He’d killed an innocent drunk.  The feel of ribs cracking under his boot had haunted him for years.   

Stunned, still uncertain of what was happening, if he were remembering a nightmare or fantasy, he remained stuck stiff as the scene continued to play out.

“Whore spawn!” The sergeant kicked the drunk in the ass.

Another soldier copied the action.

Krem’s gut twisted.  The reality became clear and the haze obscuring his thoughts thinned.

Sunset.

Galactica.

The Eluvian.

_Holy shit it fucking worked._

“Stop!”  The command came naturally, steadily from Krem.

A mass of confused and surprised eyes all leapt onto him.  A younger Krem would have shrunk under the scrutiny.  He was not that boy.

“There is no need for that.  Jenus, Artimes, get this sod out of here.”  Turning on his sergeant, Krem pointed a firm finger.  “Save your bloodlust for the Qunari.”

Anger boiled beneath the sergeant’s eyes.  Balling his fists, he marched up into Krem’s face.  “You saying you got a problem with my methods Lieutenant?”

Not backing down, not even pushing the man away, Krem calmly answered.  “Yeah.  Get your shit together or I’ll snap your spine to the point you won’t need a whore to suck you off.”

Doubt slithered under the sergeant’s skin.  His eyes darted to the other soldiers around him.  No one had seen the Lieutenant behave this way.  The sudden change sent a jolt of fear through this gut.

Shuddering, the sergeant backed off, now wholly unsure what to expect from the officer that had at one time been so pliable.  “Y-yeah, sir.”

A sudden punch to the face had the sergeant’s ears ringing and his vision filled with spots.  It had been so unexpected, so unpredictable that his entire body spun.

“Try that again soldier.” Barked Lieutenant Aclassi

“Yes, sir!”  The sergeant stumbled back into the ranks.

Surveying his platoon, he felt the mood change.  Krem could see it in their stance, the way they held their shields.  To them, he was as fresh as a newborn babe, dependent on direction and easily manipulated.

But the Eluvian had worked.

Now he was Cremisius Aclassi of Bull’s Chargers.  Four years wiser and more experienced than any of these sacks of shit.

“Everyone, back to the plaza until everyone is cleared out.  Anyone give you trouble, come to me.”

The chorus of ‘yes, sir’s were music to his ears.  In his old life, he’d never had such a committed response.  It was a waste though.  He was already planning his way out.  Fuck the army, he needed to find The Iron Bull and save the Inquisition that didn’t exist yet.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so kindly to those who have stuck with this fic to the end. I have already begun work on the final installment - Load Last Save.
> 
> This final installment will take place three years before the formation of the Inquisition and will follow Krem as he tried to prevent the terrible future he remembers, The Iron Bull as he discovers his new role as a Mercenary and Praxis as her team unknowingly recruits some of the Chargers. 
> 
> The Iron Bull told us the background of the Chargers, but how much of it was true? Will they still want to follow him after joining with Praxis' team? How will Krem convince anyone to follow his plan when even the idea of demons falling from the sky sounds like the ravings of a lunatic.


End file.
